Nigrum Lux
by TwinFlameDiaries
Summary: (SEQUEL TO HEAVEN'S HANDS) Jasmine's trip to Idris is cut short by an unexpected visitor. Now that she knows who she really is, she's set on defeating the ones who did her wrong. Feelings are revealed, friendships are strengthened, and a life will be lost. Well, kind of. Jace/OC; Malec; Izzy/Simon/Clary
1. Chapter 1

**Hello again :D If you for some reason haven't read the summary, this story is a sequel to Heaven's Hands, which you can check out on my FF profile. Anyway, here's the first chapter of Nigrum Lux! Enjoy :)**

Alicante was exactly the way Jasmine remembered it, yet somehow different. Her family had welcomed her with open arms on the first night, talking about how much she'd grown up and what a lovely, well mannered lady she'd become. Her grandmother in particular had both laughed and cried upon seeing her.

Somebody must have explained the situation to her family, because they asked no questions, never named Amir, and they definitely knew about her being Darya's daughter. Perhaps it had been Luke, or even the Consul, who had informed them. All Jasmine had done was send a letter, asking if there was any way she could spend a week in Idris under their supervision. The organisation of the trip had gone so fast that she hadn't even been able to meet Maryse and Robert Lightwood, who would have arrived in New York a couple of hours later.

Jasmine felt slightly uncomfortable throughout the first two nights—uncomfortable and lonely, despite her family's many attempts at conversation with her. Her aunt Gabby (short for Gabriella) was giving her the most space, and Jasmine was grateful for that. Gabby was a quiet one. Not necessarily shy, but more relaxed. It was as if she didn't ever feel the need to speak. Her kids, however, were a different story.

Little Selena was now three years old, with curls and eyes to die for. She didn't talk much either, but she was very cuddly and giggly (when she wasn't kicking and shouting at her older brother). She was loud in her own way. Thirteen-year-old Benjamin, or Ben for short, talked more than was necessary. More than Jasmine's ears could handle.

After dinner, Uncle Masoud and Uncle Arash got out a deck of cards and sat down in the middle of the room, Benjamin cheering for Uncle Masoud and Gabby helping her husband—Arash—play.

Jasmine helped Mehnaz do the dishes, because the woman, while very hospitable and energetic for her age, wasn't the healthiest person. At seventy years old, she had a ton of back- and ankle problems, which made it impossible for her to stand for longer than ten minutes.

"It really isn't a problem," Jasmine laughed as she rolled up her sleeves. She turned on the water and listened to her grandmother complain. It had become a nightly routine now.

"But you are a guest," she said, sounding almost sad. "You shouldn't have to wash dishes."

"Mamani," said Jasmine, smiling down at her. "It's fine. I'm happy to help. It makes me feel at home."

Mehnaz only sighed and sat down on the chair in the corner of the kitchen. "Thank you for calling me Mamani," she said after a moment of silence. She put her wrinkly hand over her heart. "I appreciate that you feel like you are part of this family."

"The other kids call you that," said Jasmine with a shrug.

"Yes, but you are different. We have only seen you one other time, and that was years ago."

Jasmine nodded. "You have a point." When she was finished washing the dishes, her grandmother motioned for her to follow her. She led Jasmine up the stairs, and down the hall to a door made of hardwood. Mehnaz's hand lingered on the doorknob for a moment before turning it. Behind the door was a room just big enough to fit a single bed, a beautiful antique vanity, and a tall wardrobe. A Perian rug was spread out over the floor, its colors resembling the fallen leaves of a tree in autumn.

Photographs hung on the wall, most of them in black and white, but some were in color as well. The pictures were of the family, mostly. Of Darya, Arash, Masoud, Amir and her grandparents. But some were of Darya's friends—two of which being Jocelyn and Luke. This had been Darya's room, no doubt.

Mehnaz opened the doors of Darya's wardrobe and reached behind the clothes. She got out a reasonably large box made of ruby red marble, decorated with golden patterns. It looked pretty heavy, so Jasmine was quick to take it out of her grandmother's grasp.

She put the box down on the bed and watched Mehnaz take off the lid. Jasmine sat down on the other side of the box, careful not to mess up the bedspread. She looked inside the box curiously, and saw a multitude of objects. The most eye-catching ones being a pair of beautiful swords. They were twin swords the length of her forearms, engraved with letters she wasn't able to read, because Mehnaz had already closed the box.

Jasmine felt her grandmother take her hand, and put something in it. It was a ring.

"Go on," said the older woman, sadness evident in her voice. "See if it fits."

Jasmine spread her fingers and slipped the ring on her finger. The metal was cold, and the pattern familiar. It was a Sianoor ring. The 'S' in the center of the ring was framed by two simple wings; angel wings, representing, oddly enough, death. Sianoor meant poison, after all.

Mehnaz stroked Jasmine's hair, tears filling her dark brown eyes. "It's almost like having her back," she sniffled. Jasmine stood up and hugged her grandmother, because she had no desire to see an old lady cry. "You can sleep in her room," said Mehnaz before pulling away. "You can sleep in Darya's room from now on."

Jasmine raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

Mehnaz nodded. "Yes. I'll go get your bags."

Jasmine stopped her. "I'll go," she said, before thanking her again. As she walked down the hall to the guest room she'd slept in for the past few nights, she reached into her pocket and got out her phone—her brand new, heartbreakingly cheap phone. She'd been forced to get a new one after Valentine had taken and lost the one she'd had for over three years. She had six contacts in her phone now: Isabelle, Alec, Simon, Luke, Clary, and of course, Jace.

Jasmine had been trying to get a hold of them all since arriving in Alicante, but she hadn't been able to talk to a single one of them. This was very stressful, considering that she had no idea how long she would be in Idris for. It could be another week, or it could be a month. She hated the thought of not talking to Jace, or any of them really, for a whole month.

"Texting someone?" asked Gabby, carrying a sleepy Selena in her arms.

"There's no signal," said Jasmine gloomily.

"Oh, here," said Gabby, and reached into her pocket. "Take mine. I had a warlock perform some magic on it. That way I can still talk to my family in Romania without having to waste paper and ink."

Jasmine took the phone eagerly. " _Thank_ you. By the Angel, you're a lifesaver," she said.

Gabby smiled. "I'm going to put Selena to sleep. See you downstairs?"

Jasmine nodded, and gently stroked Selena's chubby arm, bidding the baby good-night. Selena lifted her curly head and took her pacifier out of her mouth. She opened her arms for Jasmine, and pressed a sloppy, wet kiss to her cheek. Jasmine heard Gabby laugh, and couldn't help but grin herself. She'd never met a toddler that adorable—or any toddler, really.

As Gabby carried her daughter down the hall and into one of the guest rooms, Jasmine wondered how often she and Uncle Arash stayed over at Mehnaz's house. Uncle Masoud never stuck around for long, but that was mostly because his house was only a block away.

Jasmine flipped the top of Gabriella's phone and dialed the first number that came to her mind. Unfortunately, though, it went right to voicemail. She dialed again, but this time, she tried somebody else's phone.

"Hello?"

"Izzy, hey," she said. "It's me, Jasmine."

"JASMINE WHAT THE HELL I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOUR PHONE WORKED EVERYWHERE—"

"My _old_ phone! The one I lost… Why are you so mad?" Jasmine bit her lip, looking back at Lisa. She mouthed to her that she'd be back soon, and walked out. "You sound like you've been crying…"

"It's Jace," said Isabelle almost immediately.

"What? What about Jace? Is he okay?"

"No! I don't know… He caused a lot of trouble with the Inquisitor and—"

"THE INQUISITOR?" shrieked Jasmine. She must have woken Selena up, because she heard the three-year-old sobbing a moment later. Jasmine clutched her forehead. "What was the Inquisitor doing there?"

"I don't know _, inquisiting_? Anyway, the point is," she took a breath, "he's in jail now."

Jasmine's world seemed to spin. "He… he's _where_?"

"He's in the Silent City for interrogation. They're going to use the Mortal Sword on him," Isabelle said in a strained voice.

" _Why?_ "

"Because the Inquisitor is an old, bitter hag and Jace can never keep his mouth shut!"

Jasmine threw her head back. "That sounds like him," she said. "Is he gonna be okay?"

"I hope so," sighed Isabelle, before switching moods completely. "So anyway, how are you doing?"

In the corner of her eye, Jasmine saw her uncle Arash mounting the stairs, looking very pale. "Awful, now that you've told me this. Hold on, Iz. I think my uncle wants to tell me something." She lowered the phone, and looked at Arash expectantly.

"We have a visitor," was all he said.

Jasmine frowned. "Who is it?"

"It's the Inquisitor."

She could only laugh. There was _nothing_ funny about her situation. Nothing at all. And yet she was laughing. Maybe it was the irony of it all. Maybe it was to relieve tension. Maybe it was because she had _no_ freaking clue how she was supposed to react.

"Jaz?" It was Isabelle.

Jasmine swallowed and answered the Lightwood girl. "Isabelle, I think I'm in big trouble," she said. "The Inquisitor is here."

"She must have Portaled there," said Isabelle, sounding tired.

"Yeah, I guess." Jasmine closed her eyes to calm herself. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck, Jaz. And remember, don't mouth off to her. Jace did that and we both know where he is now."

"Don't worry," said Jasmine. "I won't."

o000o

"You threw him in _jail_!"

"It's not jail—it's the Silent City," snapped Imogen Herondale. "And if you keep using that tone with me, young Sianoor, I will send you down there with him."

Jasmine ground her teeth. "He's done _nothing_ wrong," she said. "I was right there when he declined Valentine's offer to go with him. All he's ever wanted was to do the right thing—

"I'm not sure," said the Inquisitor, "what your word is worth, considering you are Amir Sianoor's daughter, and romantically involved with Jonathan. Word gets around, Jasmine."

"I'm not Amir's daughter," said Jasmine, shaking her head.

"You were raised by him, were you not? You were with the man for over sixteen years. That's almost twice as long as Jonathan spent with Valentine."

Jasmine heard her grandmother sniffling on the other side of the room. Most of her family was gone—they had left when the Inquisitor told them to—spare for Uncle Arash and her grandmother, who were looking on anxiously.

"So what you're saying is I could be dangerous to the Clave? That I'm in on their plan?" Jasmine stared incredulously.

"That," said the Inquisitor firmly, "is exactly what I'm saying."

"I tried to kill him. I tried to kill Valentine."

"I was not born yesterday, Jasmine," said the Inquisitor.

" _Clearly_ ," muttered Jasmine.

Imogen narrowed her eyes at her. "You are not endearing yourself to me at the moment, girl. You might want to start trying harder."

"I do not need to _endear_ myself to you."

"If you want to sleep in this house tonight, you do."

Jasmine's breathing hitched angrily. "You can't throw me in the Silent City like you did Jace," she said.

"I most certainly can," said the older woman. "And I will."

Arash walked over, and placed a hand on Jasmine's shoulder. "She is sixteen years old," he said. "You can't punish her for a crime she did not commit."

"How are you so sure that she is innocent?"

" _Look_ at her—she's a child," he said.

"A child who might know more than what she's telling us." She turned to Jasmine. "Jasmine Sianoor, you are now officially under investigation." The Inquisitor, now smiling, took Jasmine by the elbow, hard. "I would suggest you to cooperate with me. Your trial is tomorrow morning—as is your boyfriend's."

 **Well that was short, but oh well. I'm happy to be continuing this story, and grateful for anyone who has followed it up to this point. It means a lot to me that so many of you would take the time to read this ^_^**

 **Thank you, and as always, reviews are appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

**You guys, please don't hate me for disappearing xD I CAN EXPLAIN. I spent the last two weeks studying for a week of exams. I hadn't touched my laptop in _ages_. God, I'm so happy to be back. Anyway, I'm a little rusty, but here's chapter 2. I hope it isn't as bad as I think it is, considering I've been out of practice for a while.**

Jasmine wasn't sure what the time was, but her tired eyes gave her the feeling it was well over midnight. The Inquisitor practically pushed her through a Portal, her duffel bags in her hands. Jasmine thanked the Angel that the Inquisitor had allowed her to bring her stuff. Her right bag felt heavier than it had before, though. Knowing her grandmother, the older woman had probably packed whatever empty space had been left in the bag with food.

Come to think of it—her uncle Arash had carried the bags down to the front door (the Inquisitor wouldn't let Jasmine out of her sight). Maybe he'd put a few extra things in there. She couldn't imagine what, though.

Once on the other side of the Portal, the Inquisitor yanked Jasmine all the way down to the curb. It felt good to be in New York again, Jasmine thought as she eyed the bright city lights. It was too bad she'd have to spend the night in a cell.

Imogen received a call then, oddly enough—Jasmine hadn't even thought the Inquisitor would have a cell phone. Grumbling something incoherent, she picked up. Jasmine put her bags down for a minute to stretch and rub the sleep out of her eyes.

She wondered why she wasn't at all nervous to be spending the night in the Silent City. Perhaps it was a consolation to know she would soon be in the same building as Jace. Maybe she would even get to hear his voice. The Angel knew how much she had missed his obnoxious, inconveniently timed sarcastic jokes and his stupid, yet clever one-liners.

The Inquisitor hung up, looking a tad distraught. "Change of plans," she said. "There has been an attack on a faerie child. I have to get to the scene of crime as soon as possible."

"So, now what?"

The Inquisitor glared. "Now, young Sianoor, I will have to drop you off at the Insitute. Unfortunately, the Silent Brothers do not have a phone I can call, or I would have told them to come and get you. Thankfully, we are not far from the Institute. We can walk."

Jasmine didn't complain—hell, why would she? She would get to see Isabelle and Alec again. She picked up her bags, and willingly followed in the Inquisitor's lead.

A couple of blocks later, Jasmine wondered. "What about the trial?" she asked, as she caught a glimpse of the cathedral-like building.

"You're not off the hook just yet, Jasmine," said Imogen bitterly, as she willed the doors of the Institute to open. Once inside, the Inquisitor pointed accusingly. "I will be back before sunrise. Don not even _think_ about running for the hills. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Jasmine.

"Good. Try not to cause any trouble." She was gone before Jasmine could roll her eyes. Jasmine carried her bags to the elevator, where she set them down to pet the Institute's Persian cat, whose ears perked up upon seeing her.

"Hey, Church," said Jasmine with a smile. "Where are Isabelle and Alec? Are they here?" She wasn't sure what to expect, but she had seen Jace talking to the feline before, and it had worked for him.

Though apparently, cats just didn't take Jasmine as seriously, because Church did nothing except purr under her touch. She sighed and straightened up. Right, then. Time to check the rooms.

She pressed the button of the elevator and waited. When the doors opened, a tall, lanky figure ran into her: Alec. Jasmine caught his elbows before either one of them could stumble. "Hi," she said, grinning at him. Alec blinked twice at her, as if she'd suddenly grown an extra head.

"Jaz!" gasped Isabelle behind her brother. "What are you doing here? How did you—"

"Long story," she said, and eyed the other girl's attire. "Why are you dressed in gear?" Behind Izzy and Alec stood Clary, her green eyes standing out like two emeralds against her pale skin and light freckles. Somehow, Jasmine still couldn't wrap her head around the fact that Clary and Jace were siblings. They didn't look or act alike—the only thing they had in common was be their mindless hard-headedness.

"Something's happened in the Bone City," said Alec.

Jasmine frowned. "Isn't Jace down there right now?"

"Yeah, we're heading there right now," Isabelle said.

"I'm coming with you."

Alec looked hesitant. "But—"

"No buts, Alec!" She was already in a squatting position, digging through one of her two duffel bags for her stele and daggers.

"You're not even in gear," Alec said.

"Oh, who cares?" She tied a belt sheath around her waist and slipped her blades, stele and witchlight stone into it. "Let's go."

Isabelle sighed. "We'll Mark her on the way. Come on."

o000o

The moment they arrived in the courtyard of the Bone City, Jasmine felt a shiver crawl down her spine. There was a statue of the Angel Raziel in the courtyard's center, its eyes closed. The Angel held a stone grail in his hands, representing the Mortal Cup.

"Last time I was here," said Clary, "Brother Jeremiah used a rune on the statue to open the door to the City."

"I wouldn't want to use one of the Silent Brothers' runes," Alec said with a frown. "They should have sensed our presence before we got this far. Now I'm starting to worry." He took a dagger from his belt and cut himself with it. He held his hand over the stone Cup, letting the blood from the gash drip into it. Jasmine knew she shouldn't wince, being a Shadowhunter and all, but she did. Something about seeing other people wounded—people she _cared about_ in particular—made her feel uneasy. "Blood of the Nephilim," he said. "It should work as a key."

The eyes of the statue opened, showing only more stone, and a hole opened at their feet. The blackness inside didn't allow Jasmine to see further than the first couple of steps going down. Jasmine reached for her witchlight stone.

"Something's wrong," Clary said.

"God, I hope Jace is all right," said Jasmine, her stomach lurching violently. She felt as if she was surrounded by negative energy, which wasn't even that unlikely. As she made a move to walk down the first step, Alec caught her arm.

"I'll go first," he said.

Jasmine took her arm out of his grasp and pushed past him, ignoring his sigh of exasperation. She held the witchlight stone overhead, illuminating the path down into the ground. Jasmine didn't slow down for the others to join—even when they called out to her.

"You'll get lost, you idiot," Isabelle hissed around the corner.

"Well, then pick up the pace," Jasmine hissed right back. The stench of rotting fruit filled her nostrils, along with the smell of ashes and smoke. Demons, she thought worriedly, and reached for one of her daggers. The only sounds which Jasmine could make out were her pounding heart, the squeaking of boots, and her own ragged breathing.

When she felt a slender hand on her shoulder, she gasped and spun around, her dagger raised next to her face. Isabelle grabbed Jasmine's wrist before the blade could cut her.

"Jumpy," said Isabelle. She looked over Jasmine's shoulder, and her eyes rounded. "Is that blood?"

Jasmine turned around to see a smear of something dark red on the wall.

"Looks like it," said Alec, having joined them with Clary by his side. He was holding an seraph blade in his hand, aripping the handle tightly.

"What could have happened?" asked Isabelle. "The Silent Brothers—I thought they were indestructible…" Her voice trailed off as she saw something. Clary's witchlight stone began to shine brighter, and then Jasmine saw it as well.

It was the body of a Silent Brother—the corpse, actually—impaled on one of the spires, his neck broken. Jasmine felt bile rise up in her throat.

"Oh my God," she choked out, willing herself to look away. Images of not only the Silent Brother, but Alaric as well flashed in front of her eyes. Jasmine wondered if she would ever forget the sight of Alaric taking his last breath.

"Alec," said Isabelle. "Do you see—"

"I see." Alec's voice was grim. "And I've seen worse. It's Jace I'm worried about."

Isabelle went forward and ran her fingers over the black basalt table in the middle of the room. "This blood is almost fresh. Whatever happened, it happened not long ago."

Alec moved toward the Silent Brother's impaled corpse. Smeared marks led away from the blood pool on the floor. "Footprints," he said. "Someone running." He motioned for the three girls to follow, and they did.

The footprints led down a narrow tunnel and stopped at a set of double doors. As the air around Jasmine grew thicker, she grew more and more impatient. Where the hell was Jace?

On the other side of the double doors, she could make out a slumped figure. Her breathing hitched, thinking it was Jace. She set off into a run, and gasped when she saw that it was another Silent Brother, his mutilated face frozen with the kind of fear Jasmine had never associated with the guardians of Bone City.

"Jasmine!" Alec called out as she stepped over the Brother's corpse. Her hands were trembling as they closed around the metal bars of a cell. There was another figure on the other side, curled up in the corner.

Tears burned at the back of her throat when she realized who she was looking at. Quickly she reached for her stele. She didn't know if a simple Opening Mark would work on the cells of the Silent City, but she sure as hell could try.

A sound like ripping cloth tore through the air as Jasmine Marked the cell door. Clary had joined her at this point, her chest heaving as if she'd just run a mile.

Isabelle's shriek sounded in the distance as the door blew off its hinges, crashing into the cell. Jasmine wasted no time in waiting for the metal to cool down—she ducked into the cell, dropping on her knees next to Jace.

His hand was outstretched on the floor, the skin of his wrist bloody, bruised and bare, an open manacle lying not far away.

Jasmine set her stele and witchlight down, abandoning them completely. She was almost afraid to touch Jace, afraid to see if he was still alive or not. Clary stood a little distance away, her arms crossed. She looked as scared as Jasmine felt.

Hesitantly, Jasmine turned Jace over, revealing an ugly bruise on his cheek. The rest of his skin was very pale, but a vein pulsed at his throat. He was alive. His eyes darted under his eyelids, and Jasmine choked back something like a sob, though she wasn't crying. If anything, she was relieved.

Her hair fell around her face as she leaned forward and put her lips on his. She didn't care if his sister was watching. She wouldn't have cared if the whole world were watching.

Jace's hand came up and touched her elbow. She sat back, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Jasmine," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving your life," said Jasmine half heartedly. She brushed his hair out of his face.

"You're really here? I'm not—I'm not dead, am I?"

"I can see why you'd think that. I have been told my kisses are heavenly," said Jasmine. Jace made a sound like choked laughter. Jasmine was grinning as well, until she noticed that his pupils were dilated. She brushed her thumb over his cheekbone. "Did you hit your head?"

Jace laid his hand over hers where it lay on his cheek. "I don't know, I might have."

Clary stepped forward. "Are you all right?"

"What's going on?" asked Alec, ducking through the low doorway, Isabelle just behind him. Clary pursed her lips. Jace struggled into a sitting position, peeling Jasmine's hand off his gray face. The front of his shirt was spotted with blood. "What happened? Can you remember?" asked Alec, kneeling down.

Jace held up his uninjured hand. "One question at a time, Alec. My head already feels like it's going to split open."

"Who did this to you?" asked Isabelle angrily.

"No one did anything to me. I did it to myself trying to get the manacles off." Jace looked down at his bloodied wrist and winced.

"Here," Alec and Clary said at the same time, reaching for his hand. In the end, Clary dropped her hand and Alec got out his stele. Jasmine's put hers back though her belt sheath.

"Thanks," said Jace once Alec was done. "Brother Jeremiah—"

"Is dead," finished Clary.

All of a sudden, Jasmine heard a blood-curdling scream. One that made the hairs on her arms stand up. She gasped and flinched, raising her hands to cover her ears.

"Jaz? You all right?" asked Isabelle.

Jasmine nodded, the voice suddenly gone. She slowly lowered her hands, shrugging off the concerned looks the others were giving her.

"My head—" said Jace, his face twisted in pain.

"Maybe we should go," said Clary. "Before whatever killed them…"

"Comes back for us?" said Jace. "I think it's gone. But I suppose he could still bring it back."

"Who could bring what back?" Alec asked. Jace said nothing, and pulled himself to a standing position, using the wall to hold him up. Suddenly he went paper white, and began to slide down the wall. Alec caught him.

"Jace—" began Alec.

"I'm all right," Jace said, but he was holding onto Alec's sleeve. "I can stand."

"It looks to me like you're using a wall to prop you up. That's not my definition of 'standing.'"

"It's leaning," Jace said. "Leaning comes right before standing."

"Stop bickering," said Isabelle, kicking a doused torch out of her way. "We need to get out of here. If there's something out there nasty enough to kill the Silent Brothers, it'll make short work of us."

"Izzy's right. We should go," said Clary.

Jasmine frowned when she saw that Jace's eyes were shut tightly. She stood up and got out her witchlight stone, willing it to light up. It did. "Can you walk?" she asked Jace.

"He can lean on me," Alec said, and drew Jace's arm across his shoulders. Jace half-fell against him.

"Wait," said Jasmine hesitantly, "I might be able to heal him—"

"We'll fix him up when we get outside," Alec interrupted. "Come on."

 **I'll try not to take so long to update this time :p Feel free to leave a comment! Thank you, and goodbye ^_^**


	3. Chapter 3

The scream Jasmine had heard earlier was still ringing in her ears when she and her companions made their way back through the Bone City. A few weeks ago, she might have thought that she was going mad; that she was imagining things. But she knew better now. It seemed as though nothing was a coincidence anymore. She glanced at Jace, whose eyes were distant as Alec half-carried him down to the pavilion. It worried Jasmine, especially since he was looking paler than a pillow case.

His expression changed from blank to horrified suddenly, and when Jasmine followed his gaze with her eyes, she realized that he was looking at the thick smear of blood on the wall she had passed earlier.

"Jace," said Clary. "Don't look."

Jasmine found the redhead's concern for her brother admirable, though unnecessary. Jace was a Shadowhunter—a remarkable one at that. While it was true Jasmine did not have the stomach for blood and gore, but she wasn't the greatest Shadowhunter to begin with. Jace was sure to be able to handle it.

The blonde shook his head. "Something feels wrong—"

"Everything feels wrong here," interrupted Alec. He nodded his head in the direction of the arches that led away from the pavilion. "That's the fastest way out of here. Let's go."

Jasmine's neck and shoulders were the tightest they had been in a while; being levels and levels underground made her feel as though she was suffocating. She guessed that that was a human reaction. She was happy to have found a way out of that place, regardless of whatever reason she might have for feeling trapped. The Bone City was even worse than she had imagined it to be. It was dark and creepy and it reminded Jasmine of a gigantic coffin, which wasn't a very far-off thought. The ashes of many dead Shadowhunters were stored there.

A bright light poured in from the exit, startling Jasmine as much as it confused her companions.

"The sun couldn't have risen yet—could it?" said Isabelle, blinking in surprise. "How long were we down here?"

Alec looked down at his watch. "Not that long," he said. Jace muttered something under his breath, and Alec glanced at him. "What did you say?"

"Witchlight," Jace said again.

Jasmine frowned. " _Witchlight_?"

Isabelle rushed up the last couple of steps, Clary just behind her. Alec struggled to half-carry Jace along, and Jasmine mounted the stairs last, her eyes on Jace's back in case either he or Alec needed an extra hand.

Once at the top of the stairs, Jasmine noticed the rigidness in her companions' postures. She had to peek around Jace's shoulder to see what they were so tense about.

The courtyard was full of Shadowhunters of all different ages and races—a good twenty of them, staring with curious, confused and fierce expressions. Each of them was Marked, and held a witchlight stone in their hand. "By the Angel," said a dark-skinned man, who stood amid the pool of hunters. "Maryse—there was already someone down there."

 _Maryse,_ Jasmine thought, her eyes scanning the crowd for the woman whom she had once thought was her aunt. And there she was, dressed in battle gear, looking more like Isabelle than Jasmine had thought she would. The woman's lips thinned into a white line.

"I know, Malik," said Maryse. "these are my children."

Gasps and mutters were heard, and Jasmine realized from the looks on the faces of Alec, Jace and Isabelle that a lot of the Shadowhunters there were familiar to them. Jasmine couldn't say the same. This was the New York Conclave—she had never seen most of the people there. The Amsterdam Conclave was a bunch she knew well.

"By the Angel," said Maryse incredulously, looking at Isabelle, then Alec, then Jace, and then Clary. Finally, she glanced at Jasmine, and her eyes flashed. She looked away quickly. Jace moved away from Alec and the rest of them, his hands in his pockets. Alec took out his phone and messed with it, startling a frown out of Clary. "What are you doing here, Alec? Isabelle? There was a distress call from the Silent City—"

"We answered it," Alec said, interrupting his mother. He fidgeted anxiously. "You weren't at the Institute—and we couldn't raise anyone—so we came ourselves."

"Alec—"

"It doesn't matter, anyway," Alec said. "They're dead. The Silent Brothers. They're all dead. They've been murdered."

The crowd went very still, reminding Jasmine of the calm before a storm.

"Dead?" Maryse asked. "What do you mean, they're dead?"

"I think it's quite clear what he means." It was the Inquisitor who stepped forward, the corners of her eyes were crinkled with a fierce kind of curiosity. "They are all dead?" she asked."You found no one alive in the City?"

Alec shook his head. "Not that we saw, Inquisitor."

"That you saw," repeated the Inquisitor. She turned to Maryse. "There may yet be survivors. I would send your people into the City for a thorough check."

"Very well," said Maryse firmly. She turned to Malik and said something to him in a low voice. He nodded and led the Shadowhunters down into the Silent City. The light in the courtyard dimmed a little with every Shadowhunter who followed.

Maryse spoke. "Why would anyone murder the Silent Brothers? They're not warriors, they don't carry battle Marks—"

"Don't be naive, Maryse," spat the Inquisitor. "This was no random attack. The Silent Brothers may not be warriors, but they are primarily guardians, and very good at their jobs. Not to mention hard to kill. Someone wanted something from the Bone City and was willing to kill the Silent Brothers to get it. This was premeditated."

"What makes you so sure?"

"That wild goose chase that called us all out to Central Park? The dead fey child?"

"I wouldn't call that a wild goose chase. The fey child was drained of blood, like the warlock. These killings could cause serious trouble between the Night Children and other Downworlders—" Maryse was interrupted by the Inquisitor's dismissive tone.

"Distractions," said the older woman. "He wanted us gone from the Institute so that no one would respond to the Brothers when they called for aid. Ingenious, really. But then he always was ingenious."

"He?" said Isabelle, having paled considerably. "You mean—"

"Valentine," said Jace. "Valentine took the Mortal Sword. That's why he killed the Silent Brothers."

Jasmine hugged herself when a shiver crawled up her spine. "Was Amir with him?" she asked. Jace shook his head. "Why didn't you tell us Valentine was here?"

"Nobody asked."

Jasmine made a face at him.

"He couldn't have killed the Brothers. They were torn apart. No one person could have done all that," said Alec.

"He probably had demonic help," said the Inquisitor in disgust. "He's used demons to aid him before. And with the protection of the Cup on him, he could summon some very dangerous creatures. More dangerous than Raveners. Or the pathetic Forsaken."

"I don't know about that." Jace's cheeks were flushed, his eyes feverish. "But it was Valentine. I saw him. In fact, he had the Sword with him when he came down to the cells and taunted me through the bars. It was like a bad movie, except he didn't actually twirl his mustache."

"So you're saying that Valentine told you all this? He told you he killed the Silent Brothers because he wanted the Angel's Sword?" asked the Inquisitor.

"What else did he tell you? Did he tell you where he was going? What he plans to do with the two Mortal Instruments?" Maryse asked quickly. Jace shook his head and swayed slightly on his feet, which nobody seemed to notice. Jasmine did. She went to stand at his side, worried that he might collapse or fall over at any second.

"I don't believe you," said the Inquisitor, taking a step towards Jace.

Jace only blinked. "I didn't think you would."

"I doubt the Clave will believe you either."

Alec sucked in a breath and said: "Jace isn't a liar—"

"Use your brain, Alexander," said the Inquisitor, still looking at Jace. "Leave aside your loyalty to your friend for a moment. What's the likelihood that Valentine stopped by his son's cell for a paternal chat about the Soul-Sword, and didn't mention what he planned to do with it, or even where he was going?"

"He's not lying," insisted Jasmine in a voice that was oddly calm. "If he were, he wouldn't have told you what he did just now. Would he?"

Now the Inquisitor did look away from Jace, her razor-like eyes resting on Jasmine. "It could be a trick. What reason do I have to believe you over Jonathan, anyway? Do not think I haven't noticed your insubordination."

"Insubordination?" Jasmine frowned.

"I very clearly told you to stay at the Institute, did I not?"

"No, you didn't." Jasmine bravely took a step toward the older woman. "You told me not to run for the hills. And I didn't. I wouldn't have."

A muscle in the Inquisitor's cheek jumped. "I implied—"

"Imogen," said Maryse, "let us get back to the point here."

"Very well," said the Inquisitor, turning away from Jasmine. "Doesn't it seem odd to anyone that the Soul-Sword should disappear the night before Jonathan Morgenstern and Jasmine Sianoor are supposed to stand trial by its blade—and that Jonathan's father is the one who took it?"

Jace looked as shocked as Jasmine felt. "My father didn't take the Sword for me, or for Jasmine. He took it for him. I doubt he even knew about the trial."

"How awfully convenient for you, regardless. And for him. He won't have to worry about you spilling his secrets."

"Yeah," Jace said, "he's terried I'll tell everyone that he's always really wanted to be a ballerina." The Inquisitor only stared. "I don't know any of my father's secrets," he said, sounding less mocking. "And I don't see how Jasmine would, either."

"If your father didn't take the Sword to protect you, then why did he take it?"

"It's a Mortal Instrument," said Clary. "It's powerful. Like the Cup. Valentine likes power."

"The Cup has an immediate use," said the Inquisitor. "He can use it to make an army. The Sword is used in trials. I can't see how that would interest him."

"He might have done it to destabilize the Clave," said Maryse. "To sap our morale. To say that there is nothing we can protect from him if he wants it badly enough." It would have been a good suggestion, if Maryse had sounded a little more convinced. "The fact is—" She cut herself off when Jace raised his hand, a startled look on his pale face. Jasmine was quick to catch him around the shoulders when his legs gave out. She struggled to hold him up, because he was both too heavy for her, and too resisting. He tried to get her to let go of him, but she refused. The two of them fell to their knees together, down on the grass.

Alec knelt down on Jace's other side, but Jace waved him off.

"Leave me alone," he croaked. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," said Jasmine, nauseous with concern. "Let us help you." One of her hands was on his chest; the other was clutching the back of his shirt. He looked at her with dark eyes, his lips parted slightly.

"Something's wrong with him," said Clary anxiously. "Something serious."

"He probably needs a healing rune." The Inquisitor looked annoyed, which made Jasmine's insides feel like they were on fire. "An iratze, or—"

"We tried that," said Alec. "It isn't working. I think there's something of demonic origin going on here."

"Like demon poison?" Maryse finally sounded worried.

"Like demon energy," Jasmine said with a shake of her head. She felt it too, the presence of something evil—what was left of it, at least. She had felt it the moment they got to the Silent City.

"He's shamming," said the Inquisitor. "He ought to be in the Silent City's cells right now."

Alec rose to his feet, his eyes blazing. "You can't say that—look at him!" He gestured at Jace, who had slumped into Jasmine's arms. "He can't even stand up. He needs doctors, he needs—"

"The Silent Brothers are dead," said the Inquisitor. "Are you suggesting a mundane hospital?"

"No," said Alec in a strained voice. "I thought he could go to Magnus."

"Magnus?"

"He's a warlock," said Alec. "Actually, he's the High Warlock of Brooklyn."

"You mean Magnus Bane," said Maryse. "He has a reputation—"

"He healed me after I fought a Greater Demon," said Alec. "The Silent Brothers couldn't do anything, but Magnus…"

"It's ridiculous," said the Inquisitor. "What you want is to help Jonathan escape."

"He's not well enough to escape," Isabelle said. "Can't you see that?"

"Magnus would never let that happen," Alec said, looking at Isabelle. "He's not interested in crossing the Clave."

"And how would he propose preventing it?" asked the Inquisitor with a curled lip. "Jonathan is a Shadowhunter; we're not so easy to keep under lock and key."

"Maybe you should ask him," Alec suggested. The Inquisitor smiled shaply.

"By all means. Where is he?"

Alec glanced down at his phone and said: "He's here." He raised his voice. "Magnus! Magnus, come on out."

There the warlock was, prancing through the gate and into the garden. He smirked at Alec, and then walked over to where Jace and Jasmine were. "Is he dead?" he asked. "He looks dead."

"No," snapped Maryse. "He's not dead."

"Have you checked? I could kick him if you want."

"Stop that!" the Inquisitor hissed. "He's not dead, but he's injured. Your medical skills are required. Jonathan needs to be well enough for the interrogation."

"Fine, but it'll cost you."

"I'll pay it," said Maryse immediately.

The Inquisitor breathed out through her nose. "Very well. But he can't remain at the Institute. Just because the Sword is gone doesn't mean the interrogation won't proceed as planned. And in the meantime, the boy must be held under observation. He's clearly a flight risk."

"A flight risk?" Isabelle demanded. "You act as if he tried to escape from the Silent City—"

"Well," the Inquisitor said. "He's no longer in his cell now, is he?"

"That's not fair! You couldn't have expected him to stay down there surrounded by dead people!"

"Not fair? Not fair? Do you honestly expect me to believe that you and your brother were motivated to come to the Bone City because of a distress call, and not because you wanted to free Jonathan from what you clearly consider unnecessary connement? And do you expect me to believe you won't try to free him again if he's allowed to remain at the Institute? Do you think you can fool me as easily as you fool your parents, Isabelle Lightwood?"

Isabelle turned red. Magnus cut across her as she opened her mouth to reply. "Look, it's not a problem," he said. "I can keep Jace at my place easily enough." The Inquisitor turned to Alec.

"Your warlock does realize," she said, "that Jonathan is a witness of utmost importance to the Clave?"

"He's not my warlock." Alec blushed.

"I've held prisoners for the Clave before," Magnus said, sounding more serious now. "I think you'll find I have an excellent record in that department. My contract is one of the best."

The Inquisitor made a sharp noise and said, "It's settled, then. Let me know when he's well enough to talk, warlock. I've still got plenty of questions for him."

"What about me?" asked Jasmine. "My trial was supposed to be at dawn, too."

"You, Jasmine, will remain at the Institute until we find a better solution for your situation," the Inquisitor said.

"Well, how is my situation any different from Jace's? How come he's being held prisoner and I'm not?"

"Excuse you," sassed Magnus, "my apartment is not a prison. Consider it a luxurious getaway from the outside world. Besides, I can't have two Shadowhunters staying at my place. Not at the same time."

"This does not mean you are off the hook—do not get it twisted," added the Inquisitor. "I will make sure somebody keeps an eye on you."

"Great," mumbled Jasmine. She craned her neck down to look at Jace's face, which was still, just like the rest of his body. She was half-cradling him, the way she might hold a sick or sleepy child. She closed her eyes and put her cheek against his forehead, wondering if he would let her hold him like that if he were awake.

Magnus, hovering over the two of them, gestured at Jace. "Can he talk?"

Jace's eyes fluttered open, and dizzily, he looked up at Magnus. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Magnus grinned widely. "Hey, roommate."

 **Next chapter will be set mostly in the Seelie Court, so be sure to check it out! Reviews are always appreciated 3**


	4. HEAVEN'S HANDS EPILOGUE EXPLAINED

**Okay, so just so we're clear. I uploaded the epilogue of Heaven's Hands a few weeks ago, and it was actually the first chapter of Nigrum Lux. So would you all do me a favour and read the epilogue again? Because I feel terrible that I spoiled Nigrum Lux and never put up the actual epilogue...**

 **Please, go back and read it :( It's important to understand what's going on in this story.**

 **Fuck, I feel like crying.**


	5. Chapter 5

_A smell like smoke and rotten fruit hung in the air. Jasmine didn't know which way to turn—all she could see was darkness, and the slight flicker of a flame in the distance. She exhaled, the sound bouncing off the walls as loudly as a scream would, and set off into a run. She heard a cry of fear, and it grew louder the closer she got to the flame. A thin hand closed around Jasmine's wrist, stopping her in her tracks. She turned around to see the mutilated face of a Silent Brother, set into a look of fear._

 _The Brother screamed again, his lips torn and bloody, and collapsed at her feet. Bile rose in her throat, but she didn't make a sound. She looked up and she saw a pair of ruby red eyes, glowing like embers. Jasmine sucked in a breath, because she didn't see a face; it was a shapeless cloud of smoke. But it was alive. And it had killed a Silent Brother._

 _"Jaaasmiiiine." It was a sound like crackling fire, but it was clearly saying her name._

 _A feeling of panic washed over her, as if she were a mile underwater with no way of getting back up to the surface in time to breathe. She heard another scream, but it was her own voice this time. An invisible voice turned her around, and then she was looking through metal bars. On the other side of the cell lay Jace, a sword-handle sticking out of his side. His eyes were open, but his irises had rolled to the back of his head._

 _"Jace!" screamed Jasmine, dropping to her knees. She tried to reach through the bars, but she couldn't get a hold of him. Tears burned at the back of her throat, her fingers trembling with fear and rage. "JACE!"_

A hand collided with her cheek, causing her to wake up with a cry. She shot upright in bed—well, next to her bed. She must have fallen out at some point, she thought. Her breathing was still ragged as she glanced up. Isabelle was there, staring with rounded eyes.

"By the Angel, Jasmine," said the Lightwood girl. "You were screaming up a storm."

Jasmine looked down at her exposed elbow. It was bleeding. "I had a nightmare," she near-choked out, and figured that she had scraped her elbow when she fell out of bed.

"Really? I couldn't tell," deadpanned Izzy. "Come on, get up." She grabbed Jasmine's wrist and pulled her up to her feet. Seeing Jasmine's teary eyes, Isabelle sighed and hugged her. "You called for Jace in your sleep," she said.

"I dreamed I was in the Silent City," sniffled Jasmine, looking over Izzy's shoulder through her wet lashes. "And Jace was dead. Someone had stabbed him with a sword."

"The Mortal Sword?"

"I don't know, it might have been." She shrugged and pulled away, dabbing at her eyes with the short sleeves of her oversized shirt. "Have you heard from Magnus?"

"No," said Isabelle. "Alec is heading there right now. I think Clary's going as well."

Jasmine frowned. "Why did no one tell me? I would have gone with them."

"You were asleep." Isabelle tossed her hair back. "Besides, I don't think it's such a good idea for you to leave the Institute right now. Not when the Inquisitor is still suspicious of you." Seeing Jasmine's sulky expression, she added: "I'm sure Jace is fine. He's in good hands."

Jasmine crossed her arms, still glaring. "I want to see him," she said. When Isabelle rolled her eyes, Jasmine plopped down on the bed. "I can't just sit around all day! Who knows when the Inquisitor will get off my back?" she said. "I want to at least be able to get out of—"

"Oh, for God's sake— _fine_! Come with me this afternoon," said Isabelle finally.

Jasmine's eyebrows shot up. "Come with you where?"

"The Seelie Court."

"The Seelie... have you gone mad? Do you have any idea how dangerous—"

" _Not_ for fun," Izzy said. "The Queen of the Seelie Court has requested an audience with us, and to be honest, I don't think refusing is a very wise thing to do."

"Who did the Queen ask for specifically?"

"Us. Me and Alec and Clary, probably. Jace, too, but I don't think he's allowed to leave Magnus' place. I didn't want to tell you, because I didn't want to risk you wanting to come along," Isabelle said. "The Inquisitor might not agree."

"Screw that—of course I'm coming. I'll take every chance I get to leave the Institute."

Isabelle nodded. "Okay, well we leave at sundown, which is in two hours from now. You might want to get something to eat—you haven't eaten anything since you arrived in New York. We can't have you fainting of low blood sugar again."

Jasmine was surprised to hear that she had slept all through the day. Granted, she had gone to bed at seven in the morning. Still, the latest she had ever slept in was one o'clock in the afternoon.

When Isabelle was gone, Jasmine reached for the stele on her bedside table and made an _iratze_ on the back of her hand. The skin of her elbow started healing within a second, and she breathed out in relief. The nightmare she'd had might have been one of the worst she'd ever experienced. But it was only a dream, she told herself. Just a dream.

o000o

The Institute was mostly abandoned, Jasmine found. She had expected a horde of Shadowhunters to walk around, the way they had when Jasmine had gone to sleep. Yet not even the Inquisitor was there. It was only when Jasmine closed the door of the refridgerator that she noticed a little boy standing on the other side of the kitchen. He must have been around seven years old, with dark, tousled hair and oversized glasses.

Jasmine smiled, narrowing her eyes curiously. "Hello," she said. "Who are you?"

"Max," said the boy.

"Oh, you're Izzy's little brother?" She leaned against the counter.

"And Alec's," said Max, pushing up his glasses. "Who are you?"

"I'm a friend," she said. "My name is Jasmine."

He edged closer to her. "You talk funny. Are you from here?"

"Why? Do I have an accent?" asked Jasmine.

Max nodded. "Yeah, but don't worry. It's not that bad."

Jasmine grinned. Kids really did say what was on their mind. "I'm from Amsterdam. Have you heard of it?"

"Of course!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," laughed Jasmine. She looked at the book dangling at his side and reached for it. "You know, you'll tear the pages if you hold your book by the cover. Paperbacks are delicate." She closed it and gave it back to the younger boy.

"It's a manga," he said.

"Oh, cool! Isn't that like a Chinese comic book?"

Max shook his head. "No, it's Japanese. Do you know Clary, too? She was here yesterday."

"Yes, I do," said Jasmine. "She's nice, huh?"

"She told me she'd take me to Forbidden Planet," said Max. "Do you know what that is?"

"Afraid not, little man."

At that moment, Isabelle walked in, dressed in a long black dress and her boots. She looked at Jasmine expectantly. "You ready?" she asked.

Jasmine looked at the apple in her hand. "I haven't eaten yet—"

"You can eat on the way." She turned to her brother. "Max, if anyone asks, tell them you don't know where we are. Though I don't think anybody will be home for another four hours."

"Where are you guys going?" asked Max.

Isabelle sighed. "It doesn't matter."

"I wanna come."

This seemed to tick Isabelle off. " _Max_! You can't always expect us to take you with—"

"Well, you never take me anywhere, anyway!"

Jasmine bit the inside of her cheek. "Hey, Max? This is really important, though. We need you to cover for us," she said. "That's the most help you could offer us." Max, still sulking, turned on his heel and walked out, clearly upset.

Isabelle took a breath, rubbed her temples and turned to Jasmine. "Go change," she said. "I'll wait here."

Jasmine bit into the green apple in her hand and chewed as she made her way to her room, hoping that Max was all right.

o000o

Turtle Pond wasn't far away from the Institute, but Jasmine still wished she would have worn a warmer coat. Maybe she could have borrowed one from Izzy, considering her gear jacket was the only one she had taken from her room in Amsterdam. She was dressed in a pair of black leggings, a maroon tank top and her black combat boots. Her hair fell around her in large curls, thick enough to act as a blanket for her ears and neck.

There was a small wooden gazebo built out over the water of the pond. This was where Jasmine and Isabelle waited for Clary and Alec. As they sat in the gazebo, Isabelle reached into her pocket and got out a packet of biscuits. She took one out and gave the rest to Jasmine. "Here," she said.

Jasmine grinned. "Thanks," she said, and took the packet gratefully. "That's so thoughtful."

"'Course," said Isabelle nonchalantly. "That one apple was definitely not enough to keep your blood sugar up."

Jasmine put her head on the other girl's shoulder. "What would I do without you?" she joked, and bit into a biscuit.

"Starve, probably." Seeing Jasmine's smirk, Isabelle rolled her eyes. "We're going to be _parabatai_. _Parabatai_ take care of each other." She sounded almost hostile. "Alec would carry cookies around if he knew that it would keep Jace from fainting, so I'm doing exactly that for you."

"You're making me sound like a weakling."

"Well," said Isabelle, "you do faint a _lot_."

Jasmine glared. "Okay, I do _not_ faint that often."

Isabelle was about to reply, but a voice in the distance cut her off. The voice called their names.

The two girls got to their feet and hurried over. "Jace!" Isabelle said, jumping in the blonde's arms.

Jasmine hadn't expected him to be there. Wasn't he supposed to be under lockdown? She was happy to see him regardless. Jace let go of Isabelle and turned to her. Their embrace was a lot less frantic, but it was just as tight. Jasmine slid her arms around his neck, and he put his around her waist, laying his cheek against the crook of her neck. He smelled the way he always did—like leather and smoke.

Sometimes, Jasmine felt vaguely sad when she was around Jace. Sad and peaceful and happy at the same time. Was that what love was supposed to feel like? She couldn't remember feeling this way about Lotte, who was the only other person Jasmine had ever claimed to be in love with. Jasmine sighed internally—what good would it do to decide for herself if she was or wasn't in love with Jace? She was pretty damn sure that she was just from what her gut was telling her. She didn't need to think it over and rationalize. When had that ever done a Sianoor any good?

She pulled away from Jace.

"I can't believe you did it!" Isabelle exclaimed. "How did you get Magnus to let Jace leave?"

"Traded him for Alec," said Clary. It was only then that Jasmine noticed the redhead. Simon was there as well, his hands shoved down his pockets.

Isabelle cocked an eyebrow. "Not permanently?"

"No," said Jace. "Just for a few hours. Unless I don't come back. In which case, maybe he does get to keep Alec. Think of it as a lease with an option to buy."

Isabelle looked doubtful. "Mom and Dad won't be pleased if they find out."

"That you freed a possible criminal by trading away your brother to a warlock who looks like a gay Sonic the Hedgehog and dresses like the Child Catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang?" Simon said. "No, probably not."

Jasmine stared at him, unable to make sense of what he'd just said.

"Is there some particular reason that you're here? I'm not so sure we should be bringing you to the Seelie Court. They hate mundanes," said Jace.

Simon rolled his eyes "Not this again."

"Not what again?" asked Clary.

"Every time I annoy him, he retreats into his No Mundanes Allowed tree house." Simon pointed at Jace. "Let me remind you, the last time you wanted to leave me behind, I saved all your lives."

"Sure," said Jace. "One time—"

"The faerie courts are dangerous," cut in Isabelle. "Even your skill with the bow won't help you. It's not that kind of danger."

"I can take care of myself," said Simon.

"You don't have to come," Clary said.

He gave her a meaningful look. "Yeah," he said. "I do."

Jace sighed. "Then I suppose we're ready," he said. "Don't expect any special consideration, mundane."

"Look on the bright side," said Simon. "If they need a human sacrice, you can always offer me. I'm not sure the rest of you qualify anyway."

Jasmine laughed.

"Come on," Isabelle said. "The door is about to open."

Clary looked around. "Where do we go?" she asked. "Where's the door?"

Isabelle smirked. "Follow me." She moved down to the edge of the water, her boots leaving deep impressions in the wet mud. Clary followed, and then Simon stepped into the mud. He swore as he nearly lost his balance. Jace and Jasmine both moved to grab him. Simon jerked away from Jace, but left his other arm in Jasmine's grasp.

"I don't need your help," he said.

"Stop it," said Isabelle crossly, sounding a lot like Maryse. "Both of you. Jasmine, you keep an eye on Simon. And lest I forget," she added, "for the love of the Angel, don't eat or drink anything while we're underground, any of you. Okay?"

"Underground?" said Simon with rounded eyes. "Nobody said anything about underground."

Isabelle threw up her arms and let herself slip into the pond. "Come on. We only have until the moon moves."

Clary stepped out into the pond as well, gritting her teeth. As Jace followed his sister into the clear, shallow water, the water made close to no ripples. Jasmine wondered how he was always so graceful—even more so than Isabelle with her willowy figure and long dark hair. It had taken Jasmine herself a Teroran rune to find herself growing into the grace she had always been told she was supposed to have.

Jasmine gently tugged at Simon's sleeve, making him enter the water as well. He cursed and splashed, making Jasmine gasp as the icy cold water hit her face and chest. She set her jaw and hissed: " _Easy._ "

Jace looked over his shoulder at them.

"Sorry," Simon muttered. Jasmine followed him into the pond, her shoulders tensing at the intense cold. She made no sound.

Isabelle, having reached the center of the pond, held up her hand. "Stop," she said. In front of her, the reflection of the moon shimmered like an enormous silver coin. "Jace, you go first," Isabelle said. "Come on."

He walked past Clary and stopped in front of Isabelle, smiling as he turned and stepped backward into the reflection of the moon. And just like that, he was gone.

"Okay," said Simon. "Okay, that was weird." He was shivering already, although he was only hip-deep in the water.

Clary was the next to step through the gateway. And then Simon, yelping as he vanished.

"Okay, your turn," said Isabelle, beckoning Jasmine. "I'll go last."

Jasmine nodded and turned, flinching as she waded into the silvery part of the water, which somehow felt colder. "See you on the other side," she said with a smile, before feeling the wet earth under her feet fall away. She held her breath, and fell through.

 **I just saw the new trailer for Shadowhunters aND I CAN'T DEAL NOPE NOPE NOPE MY EMOTIONS MY FEELS MY EVERYTHING. When I saw the pilot I wasn't too sure if I liked it but this new trailer makes the show look sooooo good jfc. Okay anyway hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review and favorite and all dat jazzz.**

 **Oooooh nooooo I realize I said that this chapter would be set in the Seelie Court. Shit. I was wrong. Sorry. Don't kill me. That'll all happen next chapter, though! Let's see what the Seelie Queen has up her nasty, sadistic sleeve. Okay. Buh-bye :P**


	6. Chapter 6

**Happy 2016 everybody! Sorry for my absence - there is no excuse lol. I just couldn't get this chapter right until now. Hope you enjoy! Please leave a comment to let me know what you think!**

Jasmine hit the earth with a thump. She immediately felt a hand on her lower back, meant to steady her - even though that wasn't exactly necessary. It was Jace. He was as soaked as Jasmine felt. She grinned up at him and pushed her wet hair out of her face. "Hi," she said, and was surprised to see her breath puff out in a cloud of condensation.

Jace smiled. "Cold?" he asked.

"No," said Jasmine, but she was shivering a bit. Water dripped down her face, her chest, and stuck her clothes to her body. Jace's gaze travelled down until Jasmine half-turned away in embarrassment. She faced Clary and Simon. "Are you two okay?" she asked, because she didn't know what else to say. Before either of the two could answer, though, Isabelle fell from the heavens and landed next to Jasmine.

"Oooh, that was fun," Isabelle said, seemingly unaffected by the water weighing her clothes and hair down.

"That does it," said Jace. "I'm going to get you a dictionary for Christmas this year."

"Why?" Isabelle said.

"So you can look up 'fun.' I'm not sure you know what it means."

Isabelle wrung out her hair. "You're raining on my parade."

"It's a pretty wet parade already, if you hadn't noticed." Jace glanced around. "Now what? Which way do we go?"

"Neither way," said Isabelle. "We wait here, and they come and get us."

Clary frowned. "How do they know we're here? Is there a doorbell we have to ring or something?"

"The Court knows all that happens in their lands. Our presence won't go unnoticed."

Simon narrowed his eyes curiously. "And how do you know so much about faeries and the Seelie Court, anyway?"

Isabelle blushed, which Jasmine was sure surprised everyone. Then a faerie stepped through a curtain of vines, his face as cool as ice. His eyes were a moss green, and his long hair a blueish black. He wore an armor like the bark of a tree. Isabelle cried out joyfully. "Meliorn!" She jumped into his arms.

"Ah," said Simon, not without amusement, "so that's how she knows."

Meliorn looked down at Isabelle without a hint of emotion, and detached himself from her. Jasmine felt an odd sense of protectiveness towards her friend. What the hell did Isabelle see in him? Jasmine was all for Shadowhunter-Downworlder relationships, but most faeries just didn't have the capacity to love and feel the way humans did. "This is not a time for affection," Meliorn said. "The Queen of the Seelie Court has requested an audience with the four Nephilim among you. Will you come?"

Clary put a hand on Simon's shoulder. "What about our friend?"

Meliorn didn't blink. "Mundane humans are not permitted in the Court."

"I wish someone had mentioned that earlier," said Simon. "I take it I'm just supposed to wait out here until vines start growing on me?"

Meliorn looked as if he were considering. "That might offer signicant amusement."

Jasmine cast her eyes skyward. "Simon's all right," she said. "Stubborn and sometimes a tad flippant, but all right. He won't cause any trouble. He's been with us for a while now." Simon looked as if he were both offended and flattered.

"We will not enter the Seelie Court without Simon," Clary said, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Your Queen requested this audience with us, remember? It wasn't our idea to come here."

There was a spark of dark amusement in Meliorn's eyes. "As you wish," he said. "Let it not be said that the Seelie Court does not respect the desires of its guests." He turned around and started down the corridor, not even looking back to see if they were following. Isabelle hurried to catch up with him.

"Are you allowed to date faeries?" Clary asked as she, Simon, Jace and Jasmine started to follow. "Would your—would the Lightwoods be cool with Isabelle and what'shisname—"

"Meliorn," said Simon.

"—Meliorn going out?"

"I'm not sure they're going out," Jace said. "I'd guess they mostly stay in. Or in this case, under."

"You sound like you disapprove," Simon observed. They had left the dirt-walled corridor behind, and were now walking down one with a lining of smooth stones. The floor was made of something like marble, the occasional root snaking up and around the walls.

"I don't disapprove exactly," said Jace. "The faeries are known to dally with the occasional mortal, but they always end in abandoning them, usually the worse for wear."

"Well, I don't like him very much," muttered Jasmine. "I hope Izzy isn't all that serious about him."

"She isn't," Jace assured her.

Isabelle, who was walking a good few feet in front of them, laughed. Her voice bounced off the walls and came back to them ten times louder. "You're so funny!" She tripped as the heel of her boot caught between two stones. Meliorn caught her and set her aside, blinking expressionlessly.

"I do not understand how you humans can walk in shoes that are that tall."

"It's my motto," said Isabelle, flashing him a sultry smile. "'Nothing less than seven inches.'" Jasmine seemed to be the only one who found it funny, because nobody, aside from her, laughed. "I'm talking about my heels," Izzy said upon seeing Meliorn's confused expression. "It's a pun. You know? A play on—"

"Come," Meliorn said. "The Queen will be growing impatient."

Isabelle stayed behind to let the rest of them catch up. "I forgot," she muttered. "Faeries have no sense of humor."

"Awh, Iz..."

Isabelle gave Jasmine a weird look, as if she didn't understand the other girl's sympathy. Jasmine awkwardly shrugged and touched the Sianoor ring on her finger. She had found herself doing that a lot lately, just tracing the patterns on her ring: the curvy 'S', the engraved angel wings. It soothed her.

They arrived in a wide room with a floor of packed dirt, high stone pillars and a whole range of bright flowers and vines all around the room. For a second there, Jasmine felt a strong sense of melancholy at the sight of such beauty. Faeries danced all around gracefully, music played in the background. And then she snapped out of it. She knew she was supposed to immediately see through the glamour, but she really did have a soft spot for aesthetically pleasing things—it really was no surprise she was so smitten with Jace. Jace with his breath-taking good looks.

Jasmine started seeing the room as it was: full of inhumane faces and energies. The Fair Folk were aesthetically pleasing indeed, but they gave off an eerie vibe.

In the corner of her eye, Jasmine could see Jace Marking Clary, who looked as if she'd just woken up from a really deep nap. Isabelle and Simon were further ahead, Isabelle's grip on him tight.

They reached the end of the room and stepped through a blue curtain, stopping at another corridor. Immediately, Jasmine's stomach lurched uncomfortably. Meliorn was toying with them. What other reason could he have to lead them through a room like that?

Isabelle let go of Simon, whom Jasmine could now see was blindfolded.

"That was some music," Simon said, as Clary helped him untie the scarf covering his eyes. "A little bit country, a little bit rock and roll." He handed the scarf back to Isabelle.

Meliorn frowned. "You didn't care for it?"

"I cared for it a little too much," Clary said. "What was that supposed to be, some kind of test? Or a joke?"

He shrugged. "I am used to mortals who are easily swayed by our faerie glamours; not so the Nephilim. I thought you had protections."

"She does," Jace said, clearly indicating himself and possibly the rest of the group. Meliorn blinked expressionlessly and began walking again. Jace fell into step beside Jasmine. He nudged her. "You okay?" he asked.

Jasmine nodded, but didn't look at him. "I'm all right."

"You don't look all right," Jace said.

She twisted the ring on her finger again, willing herself to push her feelings down. "I just don't trust them," she whispered at last.

"Are you scared?" he asked, not unkindly.

Jasmine frowned. "I'm... _concerned_."

A moment of silence later, Jace spoke again. "I want you to numb yourself for as long as we're here," he said, surprising her. "Close yourself off emotionally. Faeries know how to play on the feelings of mortals, and—"

"And I'm an easy target," finished Jasmine unhappily. "I get it."

"That isn't what I was going to say. I just meant that—you feel more than anyone I know. The Seelie Queen could take advantage of that," he said, dropping his voice at the last part. "She's ruthless."

"These are the Queen's chambers," Meliorn said, pausing at a screen of vines. "She's come from her Court in the north to see about the child's death. If there's to be war, she wants to be the one declaring it."

Jace was the first to duck through, and then Clary, and then Jasmine herself entered the chamber on the other side. A woman sat on a low couch, surrounded by her courtiers. It was the Seelie Queen, no doubt, for she ratiated grace, wisdom and wickedness. There was nothing subtle about her presence—she looked powerful and beautiful and cunning all at once.

"My Queen," said Meliorn, bowing. "I have brought the Nephilim to you."

The Queen sat up straight. Her eyes were a clear blue, her hair a little more scarlet than Clary's coppery curls. Her gaze was sharp and heavy as it passed over the Shadowhunters. "Four of these are Nephilim," she said. "The other is a mundane."

"Our apologies, my lady." Jace stepped forward, half-blocking Jasmine's view, which she wasn't sure was his intention or not. Perhaps he was trying to hide her from the Queen, but that would be a vain attempt - the Queen was sure to see and know about everything in her Court. But now she was looking at Jace instead of Jasmine, which Jasmine supposed was what he had intended. "The mundane is our responsibility. We owe him protection. Therefore we keep him with us."

The Queen looked interested. "A blood debt?" she asked. "To a mundane?"

"He saved my life," Jace said. Jasmine willed herself not to look surprised (when had _that_ happened?) because while faeries could not lie, they could be lied to, but they were not naive. If Jasmine showed any sign of doubt, the Queen would know it. "Please, my lady. We had hoped you would understand. We had heard you were as kind as you were beautiful, and in that case—well," Jace said, "your kindness must be extreme indeed."

Right, Jasmine thought. She had forgotten what a charmer Jace was.

The Queen smirked and leaned forward. "You are as charming as your father, Jonathan Morgenstern," she said, and gestured at the cushions scattered around the floor. "Come, sit beside me. Eat something. Drink. Rest yourselves. Talk is better with wet lips."

Jace seemed to hesitate—not unreasonably. Jasmine herself didn't trust the Queen either. Meliorn spoke quietly. "It would be unwise to refuse the bounty of the Queen of the Seelie Court."

Isabelle shrugged. "It won't hurt us just to sit down."

Jasmine wasn't so sure.

They sat down on the silky cushions, which turned out to be very comfortable. One of the Queen's courtiers, a little blue-skinned pixie, handed each of them a cup of a gold-toned liquid Jasmine wasn't familiar with. The scent was intoxicatingly sweet—she closed her eyes for a moment. She nearly took a sip of the drink, but Isabelle tapped her knee aggressively.

"Don't," hissed Isabelle.

Jasmine set her cup down immediately, but her mind was still foggy.

"Now," said the Queen. "Meliorn tells me you claim to know who killed our child in the park last night. Though I tell you now, it seems no mystery to me. A faerie child, drained of blood? Is it that you bring me the name of a single vampire? But all vampires are at fault here, for the breaking of the Law, and should be punished accordingly. Despite what may seem, we are not such a particular people."

"Oh, come on," said Isabelle. "It isn't vampires."

Jace shot her a look. "What Isabelle means to say is that we're almost certain that the murderer is someone else. We think he may be trying to throw suspicion on the vampires to shield himself."

"Have you proof of that?"

"Last night the Silent Brothers were slaughtered as well, and none of them were drained of blood," said Jace calmly.

"And this has to do with our child, how? Dead Nephilim are a tragedy to Nephilim, but nothing to me," said the Queen. From where Jasmine was sitting, she could see the way Jace's fingers sometimes spasmed in his lap. He was a lot more tense than he let on.

"The Soul-Sword was stolen as well," said Jace. "You know of Maellartach?"

"The sword that makes Shadowhunters tell the truth," said the Queen thoughtfully. "We fey have no need of such an object."

"It was taken by Valentine Morgenstern," said Jace. "He killed the Silent Brothers to get it, and we think he killed the faerie as well. He needed the blood of a faerie child to effect a transformation on the Sword. To make it a tool he could use."

"And he won't stop," Isabelle added. "He needs more blood after that."

The Queen arched her eyebrows. "More blood of the Folk?"

"No," Jace said, shooting Isabelle a warning look. "More Downworlder blood. He needs the blood of a werewolf, and a vampire—"

The Queen looked unimpressed. "That seems hardly our concern."

"He killed one of yours," Isabelle said. "Don't you want revenge?"

The Queen's eyes were hard. "Not immediately," she said. "We are a patient folk, for we have all the time in the world. Valentine Morgenstern is an old enemy of ours—but we have enemies older still. We are content to wait and watch."

"He's summoning demons to him," Jace said. "Creating an army—"

"Demons," said the Queen lightly, as her courtiers chattered behind her. "Demons are your charge, are they not, Shadowhunter? Is that not why you hold authority over us all? Because you are the ones who slay demons?"

"I'm not here to give you orders on behalf of the Clave. We came when you asked us because we thought that if you knew the truth, you'd help us."

"Is that what you thought?" The Queen looked amused. "Remember, Shadowhunter, there are those of us who chafe under the rule of the Clave. Perhaps we are tired of fighting your wars for you."

"We're not asking you to fight this war for us," said Jasmine. The Queen's gaze on her was intent and steady - it was unsettling. "But if Valentine wins, we won't be the only ones to suffer from it."

"Right. This isn't our war alone," said Jace steadily, turning the Queen's attention back to himself. "Valentine hates Downworlders more than he hates demons. If he defeats us, he'll go after you next. And when he does," said Jace, "remember that it was a Shadowhunter who warned you what was coming."

Silence.

The Queen leaned back on her cushions. "Warning me about your own parent," she said. "I had thought you mortals capable of lial affection, at least, and yet you seem to feel no loyalty toward Valentine, your father." Jace said nothing. He seemed, for a change, lost for words. Sweetly, the Queen went on, "Or perhaps this hostility of yours is the pretense. Love does make liars out of your kind."

Protectiveness bubbled up inside Jasmine. "Is that why you fey don't lie?" she said fiercely. "Because you don't know how to love?" The room turned icy at her words, and Jasmine's stomach roiled. Crap, she thought. Now she'd really done it.

But the Queen smiled, her eyes bright with something Jasmine couldn't interpret. "Not to mention _reckless_. Love tends numbs all the other senses, doesn't it? It cancels out every other emotion. Look at you - your chest is tight with fear, and yet you bare your teeth when your lover is at stake."

"I'm not afraid," said Jasmine.

"But that is a lie," said the Queen with a razor-like grin. She seemed to feed off of Jasmine's insecurity. "Fear is what has kept you going all this time. It is what drove you away from your uncle when you still thought he was your parent."

"Fear was not what made me leave," said Jasmine, twisting and turning the ring on her finger. "Hatred was. I hate my uncle."

"And Jace and I hate our father," said Clary.

"Do you?" said the Queen.

"You know how the bonds of family are, my lady," said Jace, recovering his voice. "They cling as tightly as vines. And sometimes, like vines, they cling tightly enough to kill."

The Queen's lashes fluttered. "You would betray your own father for the sake of the Clave?"

"Even so, Lady," said Jace.

She laughed, a sharp sound that sent chills down Jasmine's spine. "Who would have thought," she said, "that Valentine's little experiments would turn on him?"

For a second there, they all looked confused. Isabelle was the one who spoke up. "Experiments?"

The Queen didn't look at her. Her gaze was fixed on Jace. "The Fair Folk are a people of secrets," she said. "Our own, and others'. Ask your father, when next you see him, what blood runs in your veins, Jonathan."

"I hadn't planned on asking him anything next time I see him," Jace said. "But if you desire it, my lady, it will be done."

The Queen smiled again. "I think you are a liar. But what a charming one. Charming enough that I will swear you this: Ask your father that question, and I will promise you what aid is in my power, should you strike against Valentine."

Jace smiled back. "Your generosity is as remarkable as your loveliness, Lady," he said. "And I think we're done here now." He got up, and the rest followed.

"A moment." The Queen rose as well. "One of you must remain."

Jace paused halfway to the door, and turned to face her. "What do you mean?"

She glanced at Clary. "Once our food or drink passes mortal lips, the mortal is ours. You know that, Shadowhunter."

Clary froze. "But I didn't drink any of it!" She turned to Jace. "She's lying."

"Faeries don't lie," he said. He turned back to the Queen. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, Lady."

"Look to her fingers and tell me she didn't lick them clean."

Jasmine could only stare, the way one might stare at a trainwreck - bewildered and unknowing what to do about it.

Clary looked down at her hand. "Of blood," she said. "One of the sprites bit my finger—it was bleeding—" She moved toward the door, and stopped as if an invisible hand had a hold on her. She looked panicked. "It's true."

Jace's cheeks were flushed. "I suppose I should have expected a trick like that," he said to the Queen, a lot harsher than before. "Why are you doing this? What do you want from us?"

"Perhaps I am only curious," the Queen purred. "It is not often I have young Shadowhunters so close within my purview. Like us, you trace your ancestry to heaven; that intrigues me."

"But unlike you," said Jace, "there is nothing of hell in us."

The Queen's eyes flashed with amusement. "What makes you so sure?"

"If you just want to study a Shadowhunter, I won't be much use to you," Clary said, looking as if she might start crying. "I don't know anything about Shadowhunting. I hardly have any training. I'm the wrong person to pick."

The Queen looked at her. "In truth, Clarissa Morgenstern, you are precisely the right person," she said. "Thanks to the changes your father worked in you, you are not like other Shadowhunters. Your gifts are different."

"My _gifts_?" Clary asked.

"Yours is the gift of words that cannot be spoken," the Queen said to her, "and your brother's is the Angel's own gift. Jasmine was the biggest and most dangerous experiment of all - your father made sure she had both heaven and hell in her. She acts as a bridge, as a medium between dimensions. Whether she wants to or not."

Jasmine was confused beyond belief. "What are you talking about?" she spluttered. "Heaven and hell?"

The Queen chuckled knowingly. "Lift your sleeve, child. Show me the one rune that does not belong on your skin."

Horror welled up inside Jasmine - the Queen was talking about the Teroran rune on her left arm. The one Valentine had given her. The one that had given her grace, speed and strength.

Jace put a hand on Jasmine's wrist and pulled her back before stepping in front of her. "While the Fair Folk do not lie," he said, "they can be lied to. I think you have been the victim of a trick or joke, my lady. There is nothing special about us."

"How deftly you downplay your charms," said the Queen with a laugh. "Though you must know you are not of the usual sort of human boy, Jonathan…" Her expression changed when she looked at the stunned faces of the Shadowhunters in front of her. "Could it be that you do not know?" she murmured.

"I know that I will not leave my sister here in your Court," said Jace, "and since there is nothing to be learned from either her or Jasmine or myself, perhaps you could do us the favor of releasing her?"

The Queen's smile was wide and frightening. "What if I told you she could be freed by a kiss?"

"You want Jace to kiss you?" Clary said, bewildered. The Queen burst out laughing, and the courtiers joined in. Their laughter sounded like animals being tortured.

"Despite his charms," the Queen said, "that kiss will not free the girl."

The five of them exchanged startled looks. "I could kiss Meliorn," suggested Isabelle.

"Nor that. Nor any one of my Court."

Meliorn moved away from Isabelle, who looked at the rest of them and threw up her hands. "I'm not kissing any of you," she said. "Just so it's official."

"That hardly seems necessary," Simon said. "If a kiss is all…" He moved towards Clary and grabbed her by the elbows.

"No," said the Queen. "That is not what I want either."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Oh, for the Angel's sake. Look, if there's no other way of getting out of this, I'll kiss Simon. I've done it before, it wasn't that bad."

"Thanks," said Simon. "That's very flattering."

"Alas," said the Queen. "I'm afraid that won't do either."

"I'll kiss any of you," said Jasmine, the words spoken rapidly. "I don't care who it is."

Jace looked over his shoulder at her, one of his eyebrows raised. "You seem eager."

"I just want to get us out of here."

"And you're sure that it isn't your bisexuality acting up?"

"Wha- my bisexuality isn't something that needs to be contained, thank you very much," said Jasmine, now very annoyed. "I'm not an animal; I can control myself."

"While this is all very amusing," said the Queen coolly, leaning forward, "the kiss that will free the girl is the kiss that she most desires. Only that and nothing more."

"Great, so who is it?" asked Jasmine quickly. As she looked at each of the faces of her companions, she realized that Simon, Jace and Clary had paled considerably. Jasmine frowned in confusion.

"Why are you doing this?" demanded Jace from the Queen.

"I rather thought I was offering Clarissa here a boon."

"That's ridiculous," said Simon. "They're brother and sister."

The Queen shrugged. "Desire is not always lessened by disgust. Nor can it be bestowed, like a favor, to those most deserving of it. And as my words bind my magic, so you can know the truth. If she doesn't desire his kiss, she won't be free."

Jasmine gasped for air, her ears buzzing and her head spinning. "Wait, _what_?" Her voice was demanding and sharp as a knife.

Simon swore. "You don't have to do this, Clary, it's a trick—"

"Not a trick," said Jace. "A test."

"Well, I don't know about you, Simon," said Isabelle, a slight edge to her voice. "But I'd like to get Clary out of here."

"Like you'd kiss Alec," Simon said, "just because the Queen of the Seelie Court asked you to?"

"Sure I would." Isabelle sounded annoyed. "If the other option was being stuck in the Seelie Court forever? Who cares, anyway? It's just a kiss."

"That's right," said Jace. "It's just a kiss." Jasmine wanted to say something, make an objection. But she couldn't. Her throat was tight with revulsion. Jace craned his neck down and firmly whispered in her ear, "You don't have to watch this." He pulled away from her and moved towards Clary, who stood frozen.

Jasmine glanced at Simon, who looked as pained as she herself felt. She considered running, but how would that help her in any way? Jace was still going to kiss Clary. Jasmine wondered if she would have been okay with it if the two of them weren't siblings, if she would feel less nauseous. But then she realized that their situation was crappy no matter what.

In the corner of her eye, Jasmine could see Jace grabbing Clary.

That was when Jasmine realized that she should have been more careful. She should have trusted her instincts when they'd first warned her about falling in love with Jace. Because a boy that beautiful, and feelings that deep were more dangerous than demon pox. Jasmine had not lost Jace, but she was filled with horror and hurt as she watched him and Clary entangled in each other.

Perhaps he didn't feel anything for his sister, but it felt like a forewarning to Jasmine. This was something that could happen, she thought. He could get bored of her and move on to the next girl. She didn't know how she would react to something like that, to something so sweet and beautiful being ripped away from her.

But then even something as sweet as honey had a bitter aftertaste, and every beautiful rose had its thorn.


	7. Chapter 7

Isabelle kept looking over at Jasmine as the five of them were led back up to the park by Meliorn. She was the only one who paid her any mind at all, considering Jace and Clary were both too flustered and in thought, and Simon trailed behind lazily, his hands in the pockets of his wet jeans. Jasmine's own head felt hazy and her stomach was in a tight knot. How was she supposed to deal with something like this? With seeing the boy she was in love with kiss his sister?

But Jace didn't feel anything for Clary - did he? Even if he didn't, the Seelie Queen had been sure that Clary desired his kiss, which proved to be true when she was released from the Court. That in itself was sickening to Jasmine. It was _wrong_.

But maybe all of that wasn't the problem... Maybe the thing that was hurting Jasmine so much lay within herself.

Meliorn didn't even glance at Isabelle when he jumped back through the pond, leaving the five of them on the other side. "He is so broken up with," grumbled Isabelle. She sighed and buttoned up her coat. "We'd better get back. Before we freeze to death."

Jasmine hadn't even noticed the cold.

"It's going to take forever to get back to Brooklyn," Clary said. "Maybe we should take a taxi."

"Or we could just go to the Institute," suggested Isabelle. "No one's there anyway - they're all in the Bone City, looking for clues. It'll just take a second to stop by and grab your clothes, change into something dry. Besides, the Institute is still your home, Jace."

"It's fine," Jace said. "There's something I need from my room there anyway."

Clary seemed to hesitate. "I don't know. I might just grab a cab back with Simon."

Jace looked at the redhead. "That might be a little difficult," he said, "seeing that he left already."

"He what?" asked Clary. Even Jasmine was surprised to see that Simon was gone. Her heart went out to him, and quietly, she hoped he was okay. But she knew he wasn't, because she herself wasn't okay either.

0o0o0o0

Max was asleep on the couch in the foyer when the four of them got to the Institute. He would probably wake up with a sore back later, as he was positioned in a way that looked like he hadn't meant to fall asleep.

"Should we wake him up?" asked Jasmine quietly, speaking for the first time. "He looks uncomfortable."

"Max is like a cat. He can sleep anywhere," said Jace to her as he reached down and retrieved Max's glasses, setting them aside. Jasmine pretended not to hear him. Not out of pettiness or anything, but because she wasn't ready to talk to _him_. She didn't want to face or speak of what had happened at the Seelie Court.

"Oh, leave his stuff alone - you'll just get mud on it," said Isabelle with a frown, shrugging off her wet coat. "I can feel a cold coming on," she said. "I'm going to take a hot shower."

Jace watched Isabelle walk out, shaking his head slightly. "Sometimes she reminds me of the poem. 'Isabelle, Isabelle, didn't worry. Isabelle didn't scream or scurry—'"

Jasmine interrupted him by walking out herself, her arms crossed over her chest. She could definitely feel a cold coming on as well, which was not unsurprising. She was not wearing the most weather-appropriate outfit of all time. She was starting to feel numb as she reached her room, which was a first. Jasmine stripped down with wet, sticky difficulty and turned on the shower.

She stood under scorching hot water for a while, her arms hanging motionlessly at her sides. She wasn't sure what she wanted. Release, perhaps. She wanted comfort; somebody to hold her. But then there was a part of her that just wanted _nothing_. There was this raw feeling inside her stomach, and it stayed with her until she was out of the shower and drying her skin off.

As she dressed in a pair of wide pajama pants and a teal tank top, she heard voices in the next room. Jace's room.

"It didn't seem to me that either of us had a choice in the matter," said Jace, his voice muffled by the wall that separated the bedrooms. Jasmine reached out and wiped the condensation off the mirror in the bathroom. She locked eyes with her reflection.

"That's what I don't understand!" Clary burst out, and Jasmine's heart sank into her stomach. She was in Jace's room with him... "Why did she make you kiss me? The Queen, I mean. Why force us to do—that? What pleasure could she possibly have gotten out of it?" Clary asked.

"You heard what the Queen said. She thought she was doing you a favor," Jace said bitterly.

"That's not true."

"It is true. How many times do I have to tell you? The Fair Folk don't lie," said Jace.

"Then she was wrong."

"She wasn't wrong," Jace said. "She saw the way you looked at me, and me and Jasmine at each other, and Simon at you, and she played us like the instruments we are to her."

Clary said something Jasmine couldn't understand, and when Jace called her out on it, she repeated her statement: "I said, I don't look at you. At least I try not to."

"You shouldn't have to try," Jace snapped. "You're my sister." His voice was quieter now, and Jasmine wondered how close the two were standing together. Were his hands on her? Jasmine could feel tears starting to well in her eyes. The numbness was starting to fade away, now replaced with a growing sense of panic.

"Do you think I _want_ to feel this way?"

"Does it matter?" Jace asked. There was a thump and a crash, and Jasmine figured he must have knocked something over - either accidentally or on purpose. "You don't understand," he said. His voice shook. "I've never felt this way about anyone. I didn't think I could. I thought—the way I grew up—my father—"

"To love is to destroy," Clary said. "I remember."

"I thought that part of my heart was broken," he said, and Jasmine's sense of panic turned into something else. Something worse. Something she couldn't describe. "Forever. But Jasmine—"

It was agony, Jasmine realized. What she felt was pure agony, and fear and despair. And the feeling grew and grew until it overtook her senses, and she heard nothing but her own shrieking and saw nothing but her reflection shattering. Pieces of the mirror fell into the sink, drops of red following.

Blood gushed from her knuckles, wrist and fingers, and she got the relief she had been wanting. With teary eyes and a bleeding hand, Jasmine sank to the tile floor and laid her head against the side of the sink. And then Jasmine saw her - she saw Darya on her knees, wearing the same white, bedraggled gown she'd been wearing in many of Jasmine's dreams. Darya was weeping. She was weeping for Jasmine, for her daughter.

She was gone as quickly as she'd appeared, but she left Jasmine with a sense of serenity. Of comfort.

Jasmine pulled herself to her feet and carried herself back into the bedroom. She became aware of the harsh knocking on her door, of Jace asking her to let him in. Jasmine wiped at her eyes and placed her hand on the door knob, unable to remember locking the door in the first place.

"Jasmine." He dropped his voice, as if he was aware of her presence on the other side. As if he could feel her close to him. "Jasmine, are you all right? Are you hurt?"

"I'm all right," Jasmine said.

"Open the door, Jasmine."

Her voice broke. "I can't."

Isabelle spoke this time. "All right, that's it! I'm breaking down this door. Jace, get out of the way-"

"Izzy, stop." Jace sounded tired.

"Would you sit around if it were Alec? She's my parabatai-"

"Not yet, she isn't," said Jace. "And I don't think kicking down the door is a wise idea. Go get your stele instead."

Jasmine took a shaky breath and unlocked the door, turning the knob until she could see Jace and Isabelle staring down at her with concerned eyes. She instinctively moved to hide her bloody hand, whose pain she only then started feeling.

Isabelle threw herself at Jasmine, grabbing her and examining every part of her. "By the Angel, your hand! What happened?" she gasped. Jasmine's knuckles were still bleeding heavily, and little shards were visible in the cuts.

"I'm fine," Jasmine said regretfully. Great, now she'd made a big scene again.

"Isabelle, go fetch me my stele," Jace said, not looking away from Jasmine. "Now," he said before the Lightwood girl could object. Isabelle left them alone, grumbling something under her breath.

Jace took a step towards Jasmine, who took a step back. And then she saw that look in his eyes again. That vulnerable look she'd seen back at Renwick's.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Jace made an unhappy sound. "What could you be sorry for?"

"For getting us into this mess," she said, biting the inside of her cheek. "For neglecting the consequences..."

"You're not making any sense."

"I don't want this," Jasmine said finally.

Jace turned around and kicked the door shut, locking it back up. He was still facing the door when he spoke again. "What is it exactly you don't want?"

"I don't want to have to rely on you," Jasmine said. "When I first got to New York, I felt like my world was caving in. I didn't have a home or parents or a positive outlook on my future. I was lost and scared and I was lonely. And then I met you, and I trusted you with everything I had. You made me feel less afraid. And when we kissed, I felt like I had found my home, and my home was you. And then Isabelle as well. Even Alec. I was happy."

Jace turned back to face her. He was frowning. "You're apologizing for being happy?"

"No!" Jasmine burst out. Her hand was starting to throb very badly - so much so that she felt the need to cradle her entire arm, staining her unmarred skin with blood. "I'm apologizing for being wrong! I was wrong for filling that... that _hole_ inside my heart with my feelings for you."

"What hole?" asked Jace, taking another step toward her. This time she didn't step back.

"I don't know. There is a hole, a part of me that's missing, and I don't know what it is. I thought it was the lack love in my life, and hell it might be," Jasmine said, sitting herself down on the bed. "But it's not romantic love. It's not the love I feel for you. What I feel for you is based on my own emptiness. There is no substance, nothing to keep it - to keep _me_ standing if that gets taken away from me. Seeing you kiss Clary made me realize what a huge mistake I was making."

The door knob turned aggressively, but Isabelle didn't succeed in stepping through.

"What are you saying?" Jace said, his voice not much louder than a whisper.

"I'm saying-" Jasmine cut herself off when she felt a fresh load of tears rise in her eyes. She closed them. "I'm saying that I need some time for myself. I'm saying that I can't be with you until I know I'm not just trying to hold onto something - anything - for my life. I can't get stronger if I'm hiding behind you."

She didn't see Jace, but she felt him move towards the door. "I'll get you a rag for your hand," he said gravely.

Jasmine opened her eyes, allowing her tears to fall. "I'm sorry-"

"No," he said, cutting her off. He breathed out through his nose. "No. Don't be sorry." He unlocked the door and threw it open, pushing past an agitated Isabelle.

"Freaking finally," said the girl, and cocked an eyebrow when she saw the state Jasmine was in. Izzy walked over and sat down next to her. "What happened?"

"I needed some space," said Jasmine, wiping her eyes on her shoulder. Isabelle gingerly placed the tip of her stele down on Jasmine's upperarm, and drew an _iratze_. "So I told him that, and now he hates me."

"I don't think so," Isabelle said, sounding more serious than ever. "I think he loves you."

Jasmine choked back a sob. "That makes it even worse."

o0o0o0o

It was three in the morning when Jasmine awoke from her slumber. She had been having nightmares all night long. Mostly of her time at Renwick's, of the battle that took place there. She dreamed about being chained down as Valentine injected her with a black liquid, as Amir drew Teroran runes all over her. She dreamed about Jace and Clary and Valentine leaving her behind as she bled to death. But the entire time, two women stood by her side. Darya and Noella. They never interfered, but they never moved away from her either.

Isabelle, who had fallen asleep next to Jasmine, was waking up as well. It didn't take long to figure out that the thing that had woken them up was the harsh sound of the Institute's doorbell. Izzy groaned into the pillow she'd hogged out from under Jasmine's head. "Oh, for God's sake."

Jasmine swung her legs over the edge of the bed, getting up on bare feet. Her hair was nearly dry and getting very long, she noticed. Her curls went down to the small of her back now, which was a change from her usual bra-strap-length locks.

She slid on a grey jacket and exited the room with Isabelle following in her tracks. They were halfway to the foyer when the two of them bumped into Jace and Clary. "It's three in the morning!" Isabelle hissed almost accusingly. "Who's ringing our doorbell at three in the morning?"

"Maybe it's the Inquisitor," Clary said. Jasmine didn't look at her - she couldn't. Nor could she stand to look at Jace.

"She could get in on her own," said Jace. "Any Shadowhunter could. The Institute is only closed to mundanes and Downworlders."

"Simon!" Clary burst out. "It must be him!"

"Oh, for goodness' sake," yawned Isabelle, "is he really waking us up at this ungodly hour just to prove his love to you or something? Couldn't he have called? Mundane men are such twits."

"Well, he's only sixteen," mumbled Jasmine.

They reached the foyer. The couch Max had been sleeping on was now devoid of the nine-year-old, which meant he must have gone to bed on his own.

Isabelle pulled a switch and sighed. "There," she said. "Elevator's on its way."

"I can't believe he didn't have the dignity and presence of mind just to get drunk and pass out in some gutter," said Jace. "I must say, I'm disappointed in the little fellow."

Jasmine bit the inside of her cheek. "I'm worried about him," she said.

Clary looked at her. " _You're_ worried about him?"

"Yes, is that so strange?" Jasmine all but snapped. Now she did look at the redhead, and her gaze was filled with hatred. She wasn't sure why she was so angry at Clary, but she was. Or maybe she was just angry in general. "His heart got stomped on less than nine hours ago, and now he's come to the Institute at _three_ in the morning. I think he might not be doing too well," she deadpanned.

"We don't know if it's Simon," Isabelle said.

Jasmine shrugged. "Who else could it be?"

The elevator doors opened then, but nobody was inside. Without a moment's hesitation, Clary stepped into the hollow box. Isabelle gave the redhead a confused look. she stepped inside. "What are you doing?"

"It's Simon down there," Clary said. "I know it is."

"But—"

"Oh, by the Angel," said Jasmine, joining Clary in the elevator. She held the doors open for the others.

Jace followed then and said, "Come on, Izzy."

Sighing dramatically, Isabelle stepped inside as well. Jasmine kept her head down as the four of them rode down the elevator together. She was looking at the back of her right hand, which had healed very well. The only thing indicating that she had ever slammed her fist into the bathroom mirror was the thin white line along her knuckles. She was aware that both she and Jace were pretending not to notice the other's presence, but she didn't know what else to do, or how else to act.

The doorbell rang again, sounding louder now that they were closer to the door. The elevator doors opened and Clary practially ran out. The rest followed her down the narrow aisle between the pews and to the wide double doors of the Institute. Clary struggled to get the heavy doors open, but Jace and Jasmine helped her pull them back. Cold night air blew in their faces immediately, smelling of fumes and salt and smoke. And then Jasmine smelled blood, and she knew it wasn't her own.

Clary screamed, and Jace barely caught his sister as her knees gave out. And although Jasmine felt the blood drain from her face, she was quick to catch the empty candelabra Isabelle threw her way. The Lightwood girl grabbed one for herself as well, and aimed it at the vampire that stood on the other side of the doors, holding a severely wounded Simon. "What have you done to Simon?" Isabelle demanded.

 _"El no es muerto,"_ said the vampire, and laid Simon down on the ground. The poor boy was almost covered in blood. His wrists and throat were _torn_ , as if he'd been mauled on by a bunch of wild animals. His skin was a sickly green.

"Did you say—" Clary began.

"He isn't dead," Jace said. "He's not dead."

Jasmine stepped forward, holding the candelabra the way Isabelle was, pointed dangerously at the vampire. "What have you done to him?" Her voice sounded more powerful and commanding than she was used to from herself. "Answer me!"

Clary went to her knees on the ground, pulling Simon into her lap. "Simon," she whispered. "Simon, it's me."

"He can't hear you," said the vampire. "He's dying."

Clary looked up at him. "But you said—"

"I said he was not dead yet," said the vampire. "But in a few minutes—ten, perhaps—his heart will slow and stop. Already he is beyond seeing or hearing anything."

"We have to get him to a hospital—or call Magnus," said Clary, holding Simon tighter.

"They can't do him any good," said the vampire. "You don't understand."

"No," said Jace dangerously. "We don't. And perhaps you should explain yourself. Because otherwise I'm going to assume you're a rogue bloodsucker, and cut your heart out. Like I should have done last time we met."

The vampire smiled. "You swore not to harm me, Shadowhunter. Have you forgotten?"

"I never actually nished the oath," Jace said.

"And I never started," said Isabelle.

"I remembered that night you broke into the Dumort looking for your friend. It is why I brought him here"— and he gestured at Simon—"when I found him in the hotel, instead of letting the others drink him to death. You see, he broke in, without permission, and therefore was fair game for us. But I kept him alive, knowing he was yours. I have no wish for a war with the Nephilim."

"He broke in?" Clary said in disbelief. "Simon would never do anything that stupid and crazy."

"But he did," said the vampire, "because he was afraid he was becoming one of us, and he wanted to know if the process could be reversed. You might remember that when he was in the form of a rat, and you came to fetch him from us, he bit me."

"Very enterprising of him," said Jace. "I approved."

"Perhaps," said the vampire. "In any case, he took some of my blood into his mouth when he did it. You know that is how we pass our powers to each other. Through the blood."

Clary looked as if she had been struck with realization. "He thought he was turning into one of you," she said. "He went to the hotel to see if it was true."

"Yes," said the vampire. "The pity of it is that the effects of my blood would probably have faded over time had he done nothing. But now—"

"Now what?" said Isabelle, with a hard edge to her voice. "Now he'll die?"

"And rise again. Now he will be a vampire."

Jasmine's breath caught in her throat. Isabelle's candelabra tipped forward as all eyes widened in shock. "What?"

Jace caught the candelabra before it hit the floor. "You're lying."

"Wait and see," said the vampire. "He will die and rise as one of the Night Children. That is also why I came. Simon is one of mine now."

"Oh, my God," breathed Jasmine. "Oh, _Jesus_ " She set the candelabra aside and dropped to her knees.

"Jaz, what are you doing?" asked Isabelle, panic lining her voice.

"Helping him!" she exclaimed, but when she reached for Simon, she was pushed back by Clary.

"Get away from him!" she shrieked. "Don't touch him!"

Jasmine wanted to smack her. "Let me help him, by the ANGEL! CLARY, HE'LL DIE!" Clary choked on a sob, but did not push Jasmine off again. Jasmine's mouth twitched in anxiety and horror as she wrapped her hands around Simon's thin, bloodied wrists. She took deep, shaky breaths and focused on healing him. She felt her hands get hot, and saw them light up. When she pulled away, the gashes had healed, but Simon was still not waking up.

"Don't bother," said the vampire. "He has lost too much blood."

Clary leaned down and told Simon that she loved him, and then he stopped breathing completely.

Jasmine swallowed the lump in her throat. "We have to get him to a cemetery," she said. "We have to bury him."

"Absolutely not!" said Clary fiercely.

"No, I don't mean bury him forever," Jasmine explained. "He'll dig his way out, but as a vampire. I'm sorry, Clary." She sounded pained, even to her own ears.

"She is right," said the vampire overhead. "It is how we are made. We are drained, blooded, and buried. When he digs his own way out of a grave, that is when a vampire is born. How did you know?"

"I knew the brother of a newly fledged vampire a while ago, back in Amsterdam," Jasmine said. "He told me all about it."

"I won't put Simon in the ground," Clary sobbed.

"Then he'll stay like this," said the vampire. "Dead but not quite dead. Never waking. I should tell you, that there is not much time. The longer we wait before putting him into the ground, the less likely he'll be able to dig his own way back out of it."

Clary looked down at Simon, and sounded pained when she spoke. "We can bury him," she said. "But I want it to be in a Jewish cemetery. And I want to be there when he wakes up."

"It will not be pleasant."

"Nothing ever is." Clary set her jaw. "Let's get going. We only have a few hours until dawn."

Jace immediately turned to Jasmine. "You should stay here," he said as she got to her feet. "In case the Inquisitor or the Lightwoods get back. The Inquisitor still doesn't fully trust you. If she gets back and you're not here, you'll be in even more trouble than you are now."

"Jace is right," said Izzy. "It's better not to risk it."

"Agreed," said Jasmine, because while she felt like she had to go with them, she didn't think it would be very pretty, and the whole concept of death was a sensitive topic with Jasmine ever since Alaric had died under her hands. "Take care, everyone." Jasmine shrugged off her jacket and held it out to Clary, almost as if it were a peace offering. "Here. It's cold outside."

Clary glanced down at the piece of clothing, and reluctantly took it from Jasmine. "Thank you," she said, and slipped it on. It looked a little big on the redhead, but the two of them were the closest in sizes.

Jasmine gave Isabelle a hasty hug. "We'll try not to be long," said Isabelle. "Although, I have no idea how long something like this takes."

"Get back to your room," Jace said, not looking at her. "You'll catch a cold dressed like that."

Jasmine rubbed her upperarms, which were covered in goosebumps. She bid all of them good-bye and good-luck, and headed back inside with the biggest feeling of dread in her chest. Poor Simon, she thought, shaking her head. Poor, _poor_ Simon.

 **I FUCKING HATED WRITING THIS CHAPTER UWU. JACE AND JASMINE MY HEART X.X Btw every odd thing that might happen in this story, like Jaz seeing Darya sitting next to her, is for a reason folks. There is so much symbolism in this story oh mY.**

 **Please leave a comment, y'all! AxidentlGoddess, your latest comment inspired me so much you have no idea. Thank you! XXX**


	8. Chapter 8

**GUYSZZZZ Thank you for the reviews. PLEASE CONTINUE TO COMPLIMENT ME AND MY STORY HHNGNNGHHH XD K, I'll stop. Anyway, enjooyyyy**

Jasmine didn't go back to sleep that night. Instead she did everything she could to keep her mind and hands occupied. Seeing as she hadn't unpacked yet, she lifted her two duffel bags - one of which hadn't been opened yet - and set them down on her bed. She unzipped the heavier bag, and frowned when she noticed an envelope sitting on top of her folded clothes.

She carefully reached into the envelope and pulled out two black-and-white photographs. The first one made her crack a sad smile. It was of her maternal grandmother, her late grandfather and Darya. She was holding the both of them tightly. Grandmother Mehnaz was in the middle of stroking Darya's face, and Jasmine's grandfather was grinning from ear to ear.

The second photo was of Darya pulling a goofy face as she was sprawled out on the couch, her wild curly hair spread out around her head where it lay in Luke's lap. The two of them were positioned on that same couch Jasmine had seen at her grandmother's house. Luke was laughing with his head tipped backwards as Darya held his nose between her thumb and forefinger. Luke was good-looking enough, but Jasmine couldn't help but think of her mother as angelically beautiful. While it was true that the two girls looked alike, Darya had been something else back in the day. She'd had smoldering dark eyes, a romantic smile and smooth, golden-bronze skin - not that she could tell from the photos, but that had been her skin color in Jasmine's dreams.

Jasmine gently put the photograph of her parents against her heart and sighed, before sliding both pictures back into the envelope. She scooped out an armful of her clothes and set them aside, and was startled by a pair of twin swords with curved blades sitting at the bottom of the duffel bag. Those were most definitely not Jasmine's. Had her uncle Arash put those in there? If he had, then he was clearly not the most careful person, because the blades were unsheathed - they could have cut a hole in the bag. She could have accidentally stabbed someone.

She pulled them out and stood upright, testing the weight and length of them. The swords were easy to work, and only a little longer than her forearms. They were perfect for her size. Had they been Darya's weapons? Turning the swords over, she read two words: _Nigrum_ was engraved in the left blade and _Lux_ in the right one. While Jasmine had only taken a year of Latin, she understood the words. Black and Light. Sia and Noor.

Jasmine set the swords down, her spirit having lifted a bit. She was even smiling. Her concern for Simon and hurt over Jace were still there, but they didn't lord over her anymore. It was as if she was slowly realizing something - something she couldn't express in thought or words. It was a feeling. Something like satisfaction, something like relief, but not quite.

She lay down on her side, and felt herself drift off into a state between sleep and wakefulness. It was only when dawn came that she got out of bed, got dressed and went down to the kitchen to make herself some coffee.

"Heaven and hell," Jasmine sighed, remembering the Seelie Queen's words. "A bridge between dimensions..." As she poured herself a mug, the sounds of murmured chatter and boots clicking against the hard tiles of the hallway were heard. Jasmine poked her head around the corner of the kitchen and sucked in a breath of relief. She set down her mug and waved at the Lightwood siblings.

Alec and Isabelle looked exhausted, their skin paler than usual. They waved back with a little less enthusiasm, but that was understandable. "How'd it go?" asked Jasmine, walking up to the pair.

"Fine," said Alec.

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "It was a terrible thing to see. Simon went absolutely crazy for blood. Thank the Angel that Magnus and Alec brought some. It was messy."

"Is he okay now?" asked Jasmine with a frown. "Simon, I mean."

"I don't think so." Izzy sounded regretful. But then she perked up. "I smell coffee."

At that, Jasmine grinned. "I made some. It's in the ki-" But Isabelle was already gone, dashing past Jasmine to get to the kitchen. Alec and Jasmine exchanged a surprised look, and then gave tired laughs.

"Have you been up all this time?" asked Alec.

"I rested for a bit, but I didn't really get any real sleep in," said Jasmine. "I couldn't. There's too much to think about."

Alec nodded. "I understand." He took a breath, and hesitantly spoke again: "Izzy told me not to bring this up, but she - I know about you and Jace."

"ALEC!" Isabelle cried around the corner.

Jasmine smiled a bit. "It's okay," she said. "I'm okay."

Alec's eyebrows went up. "Really?"

"Yes. Now is not the time to lose myself in somebody else," Jasmine said. "And that is so goddamn easy to do when you have somebody as wonderful as Jace to hold your hand and guide you through the dark. I need to learn to hold my own hand." Alec was looking at her as if she were a puzzle piece he was trying to place.

"I'm - I think I'm going to my room to rest for a bit," Alec said, rubbing the back of his neck. Isabelle emerged from the kitchen, sipping on the coffee Jasmine had made for herself.

"Me too," said Izzy. "One cup of coffee isn't going to make me feel any less tired. That, and the Inquisitor could get back at any moment."

"Good call," Jasmine said, and watched the Lightwoods walk off. Jasmine herself went the other way, because if there was one thing she really wanted to do, it was to sit behind a desk and completely lose herself in the pages of a good book. She hadn't done that in God knows how long. She felt a pang of guilt in her chest. How long had it been since she'd spoken to Marielle? What had happened to her old tutor anyway? Reason told her she would be in Idris now for a trial, considering she had worked for Amir for over sixteen years. But then Jasmine wasn't sure if Marielle had really _worked_ for Amir in the way most would expect. She was sure the old woman had done nothing but teach for the past one and a half decades.

For the next few hours, Jasmine had her fun in the library. There was such an enormous amount of information and stories, and everything in between in that library. She wondered if she would ever get bored in there.

She found a spell book then, in the oddest way possible - she bumped her shoulder against one of the shelves in the back of the library, and a book jumped out. She caught it almost effortlessly, and for the first time, she didn't like her new way of moving. She was quick, and she was graceful, and it wasn't _her_. She had never been any of those things, and while she'd always _supposed_ to be those things, she had always lacked the skill that came along with being a Shadowhunter. Until Valentine had given her that demonic rune on her forearm.

With a sigh, she slid down the wall and pulled her knees up to her chest, flipping open the spell book. She wasn't sure why she was so interested in what the pages had to say, but she was. Or maybe she was just bored. She looked at the title of every chapter, and felt her fingers move over the letters until she saw the word 'summon'. Assuming that it had to do with demons, she slapped the book shut. Dark magic freaked her out. Besides, even if it were seraphic magic, she would never be able to get into it the way she'd want. She was Nephilim, not a warlock.

She tipped her head back, and closed her eyes. Jasmine didn't care if a library was no place to fall asleep. She was tired, and books relaxed her.

o0o0o0o

Jasmine woke up to a vibrating butt cheek - err, pocket. She didn't have to open her eyes to know she had somehow landed flat on her back, and was now probably crushing her phone. Sitting up, she took out the black Nokia flip phone and put it against her ear. "Hello?" she said groggily.

"Jasmine," said the voice on the other end. "This is Luke. Am I - is this a bad time?"

"No, you're... it's a good time. I mean, it's an okay time," said Jasmine. _Words are hard_ , she thought, sighing internally. "I wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary. How are you?"

"Good, good. I was going to ask you that, considering that the past few days have been very eventful. Clary filled me in," said Luke. "I, uh, I've been meaning to call you, but I've been stuck at the hospital and I figured you'd call when you could. I didn't even know you were back in New York until this morning."

"Ah," said Jasmine. "Yeah, no, I've been meaning to call you as well." _Lies._ She hadn't even _thought_ about talking to Luke. Her main priority had been Jace since returning to the city. "I'm... all right. Worried."

"Do you think the Inquisitor would mind if you left the Institute for a few hours? I would like to see you."

"I don't know," said Jasmine. "I'd rather wait a day or two, just in case."

"I see. Alright, well if you need anything, you have my number. Be careful, okay? Valentine and Amir are still on the loose and more dangerous than ever."

"Right. Thanks, I will be. It was good talking to you again."

"You too," said Luke, and hung up.

Jasmine's heart was pounding in her chest when she put her phone away, and it was driving her mad. Why was she so awkward with Luke all of a sudden? She used to be so comfortable with him. She supposed it was because she had no idea how to behave towards a father. Her real father. Amir had always been distant with Jasmine as a way of disciplining her. But she and Luke had been casual from the get-go. She didn't need to show massive amounts of respect. She didn't need to keep her head down while talking to Luke. But how was she supposed to act if not submissive?

Later, Jasmine didn't join the Lightwoods for dinner, because Maryse was always looking at her with intense eyes. Maryse's gaze wasn't distrustful, it was wondering. It was curious. It was thoughtful. Jasmine didn't feel like dealing with that - that and the glare of the Inquisitor. Besides, she wasn't all that hungry anyways.

It was around seven p.m when she got a call. Jasmine was lying in bed, picking off pieces of the power bar Izzy had dropped off at her door just after dinner. Her fingernails were almost long now, compared to a couple weeks earlier when they had been short and bloody, leaving her fingers to look stubby. As she disinterestedly munched on a piece of the power bar, the screen on the back of her flip phone lit up with Clary's name.

Jasmine picked up.

"Hey," she breathed, sitting up. When there was no response, Jasmine frowned. "Clary?"

"No," said a hesitant voice on the other end of the line. "This is Simon."

"Simon! Oh my God, are you okay? I'm so happy to hear from you!"

"... You are?"

"Of course! By the Angel, I was so worried about you." Jasmine blew a piece of hair out of her face. "Is there a reason you called or did you just want to chat - oh, God, has something happened to Clary? Is that why you're calling me from her phone?"

"No, she's fine," said Simon. "It's just that-" And then he launched into a description of what had happened to a girl named Maia, who was now at Luke's place, wounded half to death. "-and Clary and I figured that you could help her out, since you have healed us before."

"Goodness," said Jasmine. "I'm really not the right person for this. I don't have control over it. Not always." She breathed a sigh, and got out of bed. "Forget it, I'll be there as soon as I can." She hung up before Simon could say anything else, because she wanted to be gone quickly, and be back quickly. The Inquisitor would not let her go if she knew where Jasmine was going.

She threw her curls into a ponytail, dressed into gear (just in case), grabbed her daggers and stele, and headed out. Thankfully, she did not have to slip past the Lightwoods or the Inquisitor, because she didn't see them anywhere. Perhaps they were in the office down the hall. Jasmine took the subway to Brooklyn. She texted Alec on the way:

 _On my way to Luke's house - there's a situation and I think we need Magnus._

She would have messaged Jace, but that didn't seem like the most appropriate thing to do at the moment. Besides, Alec had been at Magnus' place since noon. That's what Isabelle had told her anyway.

She arrived at Luke's front door and found it to be unlocked, so she went inside. The first thing she saw was Clary, perched on the coffee table in the living room, a curved dagger in her hand. A medium-skinned girl with curly hair was pinned to the couch. Jasmine recognized the girl's face immediately - she was the girl from Luke's bookstore. The werewolf girl. And although Jasmine hadn't remembered the girl upon hearing her name, she remembered her now. Maia looked sick - sick and wounded and weak, and Clary was hovering over her with a knife.

"What the hell is going on here?" Jasmine demanded. "Clary, put that knife down. Jesus Christ." She hurried over and yanked the blade out of the redhead's hand.

"We had an incident," Clary said. "I took care of it."

Jasmine sighed, threw the blade down on the coffee table and said, "Where is Luke?"

"He's outside," said Simon. "He was moving the truck off the lawn."

"Okay, well..." She shrugged off her gear jacket, leaving her in only a black thermal tank top, and threw it to the side. She kneeled down in front of Maia, whose cheeks were a bright red. "How are you?" But Maia wasn't answering - her eyes had fallen shut. Jasmine cursed and placed her hands over the girl's lower arm, which was oozing a mixture of blood and demon poison. She felt slightly disgusted at the slippery feeling under her fingertips, but pushed through it. Her palms lit up against Maia's skin, and she took a couple of deep breaths. The wound started mending itself, and Jasmine felt a sense of relief pass through her. But Maia herself didn't look a lot better.

The front door flew open, and then Magnus, Alec and Jace were all in the living room. "You came," breathed Jasmine in relief, pulling away from Maia. She put her hands in her lap, blood-stained palms facing up."Magnus, thank God. Maia's really hurt and I don't know if I can handle this on my own. I healed the wound, but I think the demon poison is still coarsing through her veins."

Magnus threw the cape he was wearing aside, the way Jasmine had done with her jacket, and said, "Get out of the way, mundane." He pushed past Simon and stalked over to where Maia and Jasmine where. "I take it you're my patient?" he said to Maia. Jasmine got to her feet and walked into the kitchen, careful not to touch anything. She got to the sink and leaned forward on her elbows, squeezing her eyes shut when she felt an overpowering wave of nausea wash over her.

She heard slow footsteps behind her, and then he was standing next to her. His presence alone was enough to make her heart skip a beat.

"I didn't know you were coming here," she said, and looked up to meet Jace's tawny eyes.

"I didn't think it would be a problem for you," he said.

Jasmine frowned. "It's not. It's just that I wasn't expecting it. That's all," she mumbled. Jace turned on the sink for her, looking close to annoyed. Jasmine thought nothing of it and let the lukewarm water pass over her hands.

"You look like you're going to be sick," Jace observed.

Jasmine was aggressively scrubbing her hands now, using even dish soap to get the blood off. "I've seen more blood in the past month or so than I have in my entire life - and I'm a _girl_ , for the Angel's sake. I should be used to seeing blood."

"That's different." Jace looked mildly grossed out.

"It's just - I'm okay with blood. It doesn't usually make me squeamish," Jasmine said. "But this just seems excessive. First I let Alaric die, and then the Silent Brothers were slaughtered, and then Simon was turned into a vampire, and now Maia. All in ten days. And everytime, my hands get covered in the blood of others."

"You didn't _let_ Alaric die," Jace said, sounding as if he were genuinely angry at Jasmine. "So why blame yourself?"

"You don't get it!"

Jace's eyes were blazing. "Don't get what?" he snapped. "Seeing a dead body for the first time? Watching somebody get murdered in front of you? Because I do get it. Except in my case, I thought it was my father. I couldn't stop seeing him in a pool of his own blood for half a decade."

Jasmine didn't know what to say. She recalled him telling her about that, about seeing his father get murdered in front of him. Though that turned out to have been a big scheme of Valentine's, because he wasn't really dead. But Jace had thought it, and he had only been ten years old.

Jasmine was lost for words. "Jace, I-"

"I know," he said wryly. "You didn't mean it like that."

"Jace, I'm _sorry_ -"

"I'd better go and check the front of the house for Luke. He should have been back by now," he said, and he had that same disinterested, detached edge to his voice that he always did when he was hurt. She called his name one more time, but he didn't turn back around.

"Damn it!" she said, smacking an overhead cupboard with the palm of her hand. She turned the water off and walked into the living room. Alec was sat in a chair nearby and watched Magnus heal Maia. The warlock had put a blueish glow around himself and the werewolf. He turned to face her.

"Having a lover's spat?"

The glare Jasmine threw his way was cold enough to turn his glitter-crusted eyelashes into tiny icicles. "Please shut up," she snapped. Magnus looked at Alec with surprise in his eyes, but Alec only shrugged.

"At least she said 'please'," he said.

Magnus sighed and muttered something under his breath about ungrateful Shadowhunters. Jasmine wasn't interested in what he had to say. Instead she asked where Clary was.

"She followed Jace outside," Maia said, looking a lot better already. "Simon, too."

"Since when does the mundane care about Jace?" Alec asked, almost indignantly.

"He doesn't," Jasmine said simply. "He cares about Clary. And he's not a mundane anymore, remember?" She tightened her ponytail and leaned against the wall. Magnus finished with Maia, and asked Alec to put her to bed in Luke's room. Alec reluctantly did so, scooping Maia up in his arms and walking her out. Magnus turned to Jasmine.

"I didn't know you were part warlock," he said.

Jasmine frowned in confusion.

"The healing of Maia's wound," Magnus explained. "I didn't know you could do that."

"I'm not a warlock," Jasmine said.

"Then how-"

"I don't know," said Jasmine with a half-smile. She walked over to the sofa and sat down in front of Magnus. "I got attacked by a demon once, in an alley next to the book store, and I got hurt. Instinctively, I touched the shoulder that had gotten hurt. I healed myself - well, the wound. I couldn't get rid of the demon poison, much like I couldn't rid Maia's body of the Drevak poison. It happens naturally, the healing. Something guides me to do it. When I try to force it - it doesn't work."

Magnus was staring at her intently, like he was trying to figure her out. And then his eyebrows went up, and he sat back. "You're channeling something. Or someone, rather," he said. "I see waves crashing against the shore when I look at you closely. Does that mean anything to you?"

Jasmine shook her head.

"I'm pretty sure there is a spirit around you that is connected to the ocean. Or maybe you are," Magnus said, and lifted a hand to inspect his nails. "Water is a healing element, you know. It stands for emotions, flexibility and health."

He didn't have to continue.

"Darya," Jasmine said with a tense laugh, remember the Persian word her mother had been named after. _Darya_ meant 'ocean' in Farsi. "You think I'm channeling _Darya_?"

"Who?"

"My mother! She's around me?"

Magnus dropped his hand and looked at her. "I'm not sure," he said. "I'm not much of a medium. But I get visions sometimes. What I can tell you, though, is that your senses are not fully in this dimension. They shift between r-" He didn't get to finish his sentence, because Alec was back in the room.

"Is Jace still not back?" asked the Lightwood boy, cutting Magnus off mid-sentence. "I'm starting to worry."

Magnus offered to go and check the front of the apartment, and Jasmine said she would check the book store's surroundings. They didn't get as far, though, because Clary, Jace and Simon burst into the living room with a pale, limp, wounded Luke on their arms. Jasmine was horrified. She jumped to her feet, but Magnus didn't let her get to him. He was quick to lay Luke down on the sofa.

He looked half-dead, and it scared the living daylight out of Jasmine. She kept losing parents. First the mother she'd never known about died, then Noella had committed suicide, and then she'd run away from home, leaving her supposed father behind. And now her real father looked as if he were only minutes away from joining her two mothers in the afterlife.

Jasmine cursed. "What the hell happened?" she asked. Her heart was beating a mile a minute. Nobody offered her an answer, but Magnus promised he knew what he was doing. She heard the words 'Raum demons' come out of Jace's mouth, though he wasn't talking to her - he was talking to Alec. Suddenly Simon was standing next to her, and for the first time, Jasmine noticed that his glasses were gone. She couldn't bring herself to comment on it, though, and instead turned to him and said, "Are they gone? The Raum demons?"

Simon nodded, but said nothing. And then the two exchanged small, reassuring smiles, which relieved the tension between them. Jasmine patted him on the shoulder and edged closer to the couch to get a better look at what was happening. Luke's skin was slowly regaining color, and his breathing pattern had gone back to normal. Jasmine made a relieved sound that seemed more desperate than she had felt like she was.

"He's all right!" Clary exclaimed, and everybody came running. Jasmine took an automatic step back, and silently questioned herself. She should be flinging herself at Luke, right? Wasn't that what family did when they were glad you were okay? And yet Jasmine felt wrong for wanting to be that close and comfortable with him. She felt as if she were at a friend's house for a first time, careful not to upset them or the parents, careful not to be impolite, and to make a good first impression. She was always treading with caution.

Magnus sat back, looking exhausted and pale.

"So he'll live?" Simon said. "You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Magnus said. "I'm the High Warlock of Brooklyn; I know what I'm doing. Which reminds me," he continued stiffly, "that I'm not exactly sure what it is you think you're doing, calling on me every time one of you has so much as an ingrown toenail that needs clipping. As High Warlock, my time is valuable. There are plenty of lesser warlocks who'd be happy to do a job for you at a greatly reduced rate."

Clary looked taken aback. "You're charging us? But Luke is a friend!"

Magnus took a thin blue cigarette out of his shirt pocket. "Not a friend of mine," he said. "I met him only on the few occasions when your mother brought him along when your memory spells were being refreshed." He lit the cigarette with a spark of his fingers. "Did you think I was helping you out of the goodness of my heart? Or am I just the only warlock you happen to know?"

Jasmine frowned and shook her head. "I just thought since you helped me once..."

"You paid me to do that," said Magnus.

"You gave me a discount," Jasmine said, crossing her arms. It was true. The Portal Magnus had created for her, the one that had taken her to New York the first time, would have costed her everything she'd had if it hadn't been for Magnus' generosity back then.

"Right," said Magnus, his cat eyes even more slitted than usual. "I gave you a discount, because you were desperate for help. But you cannot expect me to keep doing favors for you. I am not your pet warlock. I'm the High Warlock of Brooklyn." His eyes moved to Clary, then Jace, and then Simon.

Nobody said anything, though Jace looked as if he wanted to call Magnus a long string of unprintable words. His eyes were blazing.

Jasmine looked around for her gear jacket, and found that it was no long lying on the floor. It lay neatly over the armrest of a chair nearby. Jasmine glanced back at Jace, and realized that he must have been the person to pick the jacket up off the floor. This made Jasmine sad, even if she didn't understand why.

"Where are you going?" Alec asked when Jasmine went to retrieve her jacket.

"The Institute," she said, and heard the drawnness in her own voice. "I should get back."

"Hold on," said Luke, opening his eyes. He was holding his shoulder in a painful manner.

"Luke!" Clary exclaimed, dropping to her knees next to him. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Not really." Luke passed a hand over his face. "The last thing I remember was going out to the truck. Something hit my shoulder and jerked me sideways. I remember the most incredible pain—Anyway, I must have passed out after that. Jasmine," he said, and looked up at her. "I would like you to stay here until we know the coast is clear. We might still be under attack."

Jasmine's facial features didn't change, but her mind did - immediately. "Okay," she said, and felt her mood lift a bit. "I'll stay."


End file.
